A Shattered Soul
by camlann
Summary: A mysterious Saxon aids the knights...are his purposes sincere, or does he have an agenda? Sequel to "The Peril of Secrets"
1. Chapter 1:A Mere Shadow of Humanity

Disclaimer: I hate writing disclaimers…its not as if anyone reads the things anyway. But here it is, just so I can say that it's here. I only own the things that I came up with.

A/N: Please note that this is a companion story to "The Peril of Secrets," so if you haven't read that, then this story will make virtually no sense. Also, to the readers of "The Peril of Secrets": I didn't forget about Tristan and Niamh—I simply had too much going on in the last chapter, so I had to make a sacrifice. Their story will continue, though, so don't worry.

Chapter 1: A Mere Shadow of Humanity

Tristan shoved at the fallen Saxon that pinned him to the ground, grunting at the pain the movement caused him. Pushing the body aside, he slowly climbed to his feet, favoring his right side where his ribs were tender. He breathed shallowly, trying not to aggravate the injury any further and slowly gazed around him at the field of desolation before him. Blood stained the ground, and bodies lay where they'd fallen, never to rise again. Cries of the wounded, calling out to their gods, filled the air, but Tristan knew that for most of them, death was eminent.

He stumbled forward, and across the field, not too far away, Aldric called his name. He looked up as Aldric hurried forward, and though he was liberally spattered with blood, Tristan could see that Aldric had come out of the battle largely unscathed.

"Tristan, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. The others?"

"I haven't seen them," Aldric said softly. "But looking around, I'm worried for them. This was bad today, Tristan."

"Not as bad as it was for the Saxons." A whistling noise began to fill the air, and the two knights looked at one another, Aldric beginning to smile.

"That's Arthur's standard. What direction is it coming from?" Aldric asked. Tristan contemplated the sound, finally pointing to the west. "Come on—I'm sure the others will gather there." Moving slowly, the two men began to move westward, neither one voicing their fears that they might be the only ones to show up.

* * *

Bors searched among the bodies, desperately hoping that he wouldn't find one of his own among the dead. To his right, Gawain did the same, and together they scoured the field, searching for signs of the other knights.

"Papa!" Bors looked up in alarm as he heard a familiar cry echo across the field of the dead, and he felt his heart plummet.

"That couldn't be Hummingbird," Gawain said slowly, shaking his head. The two men turned, horrified to see that it was indeed Hummingbird. She was running for them , her face streaked with dirt and tears, her dress stained with blood as she picked her way around the bodies, stumbling toward them as fast as she could.

"Eight!" Bors ran forward, terrified that his daughter wasn't with the caravan, that she could have died. He dropped to his knees and caught her as she threw herself into his embrace, sobbing pitifully onto his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Papa! I don't hate you, really, I don't," she wailed. She held on to him tightly, and he hugged her close to him, rocking her slowly.

"I know you don't, Eight," he said softly. He met Gawain's eyes, not embarrassed to let the other knight see the tears in his eyes as he held Hummingbird. "She could have been killed," he told Gawain in a shaky voice.

"Why aren't you with the caravan, Hummingbird?" Gawain asked, kneeling beside them to speak to the little girl.

"I wanted to find Dayn," she murmured softly.

"Gods, you could have been hurt, Eight," Bors mumbled, shaking his head.

"I know. I was real scared, Papa! But I asked Arthur's god for help, and he sent Caderyn to save me! He's a nice god like that," she said, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve.

"Caderyn? But he's hurt! He's supposed to be with the caravan!" Gawain exclaimed, looking at Bors with alarm.

"Well, he fell asleep after Chaos went away."

"Chaos? Hummingbird, what are you talking about?"

"Well, see there were all these blue people and then they were fighting with these other people, and Caderyn came and saved me. But then, this scary man was going to hurt us, and Caderyn pulled Chaos in front of him…Chaos got hurt," she said softly, looking down dejectedly as she thought sadly about Caderyn's horse.

"Then what happened?" Gawain asked softly, knowing the child was upset, but also knowing they didn't have the time to console her at the moment. Caderyn's life rested on them finding him, and Hummingbird was the only one who knew where he was.

"Chaos fell on that scary man, and squashed him up a bit…and then Caderyn killed that man. But Chaos didn't do so good, and he stopped moving. Caderyn said he would bring me to you, Papa, but that he didn't think he would make it that far. I told him not to worry, but then he fell asleep, and I couldn't get him to wake up. So I came to find you, Papa, so you can help Caderyn. But we hafta hurry—I left him all alone, and I don't want him to be scared!"

"Can you lead us back to him, Hummingbird?" Gawain asked urgently.

"Uh-huh. I'm a good finder, Gawain," she told him with a firm nod. Squirming out of Bors arms, she took his hand and began to lead the way. "Watch out for the people on the ground, Papa. If you're not careful, you'll trip and fall on them," she said softly, her eyes blanking staring at the bodies littering the ground. Bors looked at Gawain, his heart hurting for the brutality and warfare that his daughter had been a witness to, and he worried that she might never be the same.

"Don't worry, Bors," Gawain murmured. "She's strong—she'll be alright," he said with a reassuring smile. A whistling noise filled the air, and they turned back to look, knowing the sound for Arthur's standard. "We should meet up with the others, but we can't leave Caderyn out here alone. What do we do?"

"Well, I might need you to help me with him," Bors said. Spotting Galahad striding across the field, Bors called out to him, yelling to be heard. "Galahad, meet the others at the standard! Me and Gawain will be along soon!" Galahad waved in agreement and hurried on for the standard as Gawain and Bors let Hummingbird lead them onward.

"I hope he's alright," Gawain told Bors softly.

"Me too, Gawain. Me too."

* * *

Wulflaf sneered as he gazed at the Saxons littering the ground around him before he turned back to the knight that lay at his feet. He spotted Cynric's still form, and he paused, staring down at the familiar face, a face that he'd seen everyday since he was a child. Finally, he turned away from the unmoving figure and knelt down by the knight, putting his hand to the knight's chest to check for a heartbeat, annoyed with the armor that was in his way. He leaned his head down near the knight's mouth to listen for breath sounds, relieved when the knight suddenly chuckled.

"I'm not dead yet," Lancelot told him with a pain-filled laugh. "Help me up, though," he said with a grimace, not able to suppress a groan as the tall Saxon helped him to his feet. He swayed on his feet, pain beating at him in waves, and Wulflaf grabbed his arm to keep him from falling.

"Shall I carry you?" he asked, his pale blue eyes boring into Lancelot with intensity.

"I'd never live that down," Lancelot murmured. "Just help me walk," he said, breathing heavily with exertion. The Saxon nodded, and placed Lancelot's arm over his shoulder knowing that he would have to take the brunt of Lancelot's weight. It was plain to see that Lancelot wasn't going to make it far on his own.

Guenevere, standing nearby, gazed warily at the Saxon before she hurried to Lancelot's other side, and together the three began to make their way back towards the center of the field.

"You," Guenevere said, addressing Wulflaf, "you're a Saxon. Why did you help us?" she asked, her distrust apparent as she stared at the large Saxon. His hair was long, held back from his face in a ponytail that fell down his back, a blond so light that it looked white. His eyes, too, were light, and to Guenevere, it seemed as though he looked straight through her with those eyes.

"I have my reasons, and they are my own. You do not need to know them, only that I did what I did."

"You slaughtered your own people," she said with disdain, disgusted that he could so turn on his own people for no apparent reason. "There's nothing worse than a traitor."

"They were not my people," Wulflaf said, his voice filled with anger. "Speak not of things which you know nothing about." His cold eyes pierced her, the spark of barely concealed fury frightening her.

"Guenevere, where's Arthur?" Lancelot asked, breaking up what was sure to become an argument.

"I don't know. I lost sight of him during the battle," she said regretfully. "I think we all scattered once we broke the Saxon lines. I'm sorry, Lancelot." Lancelot's head dropped to his chest, and for a moment, Guenevere worried that he'd fallen unconscious once more.

"We need to find him. I have to know he's alright," Lancelot said softly. A whistle in the air caught their attention, and Lancelot's breath hitched. "The standard. We have to get there." Wulflaf nodded, and the trio began to make their way to the standard that called them.

* * *

Orainne stepped out of the tree line, tears filling her eyes as she beheld the scene before her. Wind whipped through her hair, bringing with it the stench of blood and death.

"Dayn," she whispered. "Do you see him, Annan?" she asked, addressing the Woad man who stood beside her. Annan had worked the catapults with some of the others, so had escaped much of the slaughter.

"It's impossible to keep up with anyone this far away, Orainne," he answered, as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, smearing the woad designs on his face.

"I need to find him," she said, starting forward.

"I'll come with you. Dayn would kill me if anything were to happen to you." He followed closely behind her as she hurried away from the trees to the field before her. _Dagda, please help me find him_, she prayed._ Let him be alright. _

* * *

Hummingbird let go of Bors' hand as they neared the spot where she'd left Caderyn lying next to Chaos. She ran to him, kneeling down beside him and taking his hand in her own, heedless of the blood soaking through her dress.

"Caderyn, wake up! Papa's here, just like I told you," she said excitedly. Bors felt his heart clench as Caderyn lay there unmoving, and he slowly prepared himself to tell his daughter that her beloved Caderyn was dead. But then Caderyn groaned, and Bors hurried forward with Gawain right behind him. Caderyn blinked his eyes open, staring at the two knights and the little girl with pain-filled eyes. "Bors…," he mumbled.

"Yeah, Caderyn, I'm here. Me and Gawain, we're gonna get you out of here," he said soothingly. The two knights carefully begin to pick the fallen knight up off the ground, as Caderyn continued to mumble.

"Kept her safe for you, Bors…I didn't let anything happen to her…," he continued, beginning to ramble almost incoherently.

"Hummingbird, do you know where Arthur's standard is?" Bors asked the little girl.

"No, but I bet I can find it," she said excitedly.

"Well, I want you to follow that sound," he said, referring to the strange echo of the wind whistling through Arthur's standard. "You'll find the others there. I want you to tell them that me and Gawain took Caderyn back to the garrison to find a healer. Can you do that?"

"Yes, Papa," she said solemnly. Turning, she began to run quickly in the direction of the standard, and Bors felt pride well up inside him as he thought of his brave little girl.

"She's priceless, that one," Gawain said suddenly.

"I know—she's just like me," he said with a grin. With a grunt, he hefted Caderyn onto his back, trusting on Gawain to make sure that he didn't falter.

* * *

Kneeling in the grass, Tristan watched as Aldric looked at the arrow in Dayn's chest, smiling as Dayn swatted at Aldric's hand in annoyance. He noticed the two Woad women standing behind Dayn watching in amusement as well, noting their presence before turning his gaze once more to scan the field.

"Aldric, there's nothing to be done about it here, so leave it," Dayn said impatiently. "A healer will take care of it soon enough." Aldric was about to argue when Tristan stood suddenly, gazing across the field alertly, for there was Arthur, wearily making his way towards them with Galahad not far behind.

"Knights, you do my heart good to see you here," Arthur said with a smile. He looked around, his smile falling as he noticed the missing knights. "What of Lancelot? And Bors and Gawain?"

"Arthur, Bors and Gawain are fine—they said they'd be along soon. It looked like Bors was holding Hummingbird," Galahad said slowly, looking at Arthur with worried eyes.

"Hummingbird? What was she doing here?"

"I don't know. But you know that one, Arthur—she's got a mind of her own, and her father's stubbornness to boot."

"Well that explains their absence at least, but what of Lancelot? Has no one seen him?"

Silence fell as no one spoke up, and Arthur felt despair well up inside him as he thought of his first knight. His head dropped, and he struggled to hold back tears for his best friend, his brother in arms.

"Arthur," Tristan said suddenly, and Arthur looked up to see him looking past him. Hummingbird was running towards them, the torn and smeared fabric of her smock streaming behind her as she raced across the field of dead and wounded.

Arthur knelt down as the little girl raced into his arms, plowing into him with enough force to almost knock him backward. She hugged him tightly before leaning back to look in his face.

"Papa told me to tell you that he and Gawain took Caderyn back to the garrison because he's hurt."

"Caderyn? But, he was supposed to be with the caravan," Galahad broke in. Hummingbird looked at him impatiently before continuing.

"Caderyn came back to help me because I was scared."

"What were you doing here?" Arthur asked her, thinking of all the harm that could have befallen her on the battlefield.

"I was looking for Dayn," she said softly, and Dayn glanced up from his place on the ground, his eyes widening in dismay. "He didn't say goodbye, and I wanted him to come with us to Sarmatia," she continued.

"Hummingbird, I'm sorry," Dayn told her as shame swept through him. _I should have said goodbye to her. How could I have just left her without a word of farewell? _He began to mentally berate himself, and he shuddered at the thought of a six-year-old girl standing in the midst of the battle.

"It's alright, Dayn. I'm okay, really. Arthur's god sent Caderyn to save me—he's a nice god really," she said, turning to smile back at Arthur. "I borrowed him for a bit," she said. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, Hummingbird, I don't mind at all. My God welcomes your prayers…"

"Yeah, I like your god. Oh, hello, Lancelot," she said brightly, suddenly looking past Arthur with a smile. Her smile dimmed however, when she realized that he was hurt.

Arthur came to his feet, astonished to see Guenevere and a Saxon supporting Lancelot between them. Tristan pulled his sword as they came near, his eyes narrowed in suspicion on the Saxon.

"Don't," Lancelot mumbled, his breath coming in short gasps. "He's with us," he told the surprised knights. Arthur nodded at Tristan, and the scout slowly returned his sword to its sheath. Arthur stepped forward and took Guenevere's place at Lancelot's side, leaving the Saxon to support Lancelot on the other.

"So this is what it's like to be free," Lancelot told Arthur painfully. "Somehow I thought it would be more relaxing." Arthur smiled at his friend's attempt at humor, but he knew deep down that Lancelot was only trying to keep him from worrying. _I can only hope that the presence of his usual wit means that he'll be alright._

"We need to get you and Dayn to a healer," he said. "And I'll wish to speak to you," Arthur said, addressing the Saxon. Wulflaf nodded, but didn't speak as they slowly began the trek back to the garrison.

"Caireach," Dayn called. The young woman stepped forward as Aldric helped pull Dayn to his feet. "Take Muireann and find Orainne, and tell her I'm alright, will you? She's probably worried." Caireach nodded, and Hummingbird hopped up with excitement.

"I want to come, too! Can I, Dayn? Please, I can help find Orainne—I'm a good…"

"Finder, yes, I know," Dayn said, finishing her sentence. "Very well, but stay close to Caireach and Muireann, alright? Don't wander off." Hummingbird, none too eager to be alone anymore, took Caireach's hand and led the way to search for Orainne, chattering excitedly to the young Woad women. With Aldric's help, the two knights followed behind Arthur, Lancelot, and the Saxon, with Tristan and Galahad bringing up the rear.

"Arthur," Lancelot said painfully, "the Saxon is Wulflaf. See to it that the others don't…"

"I will take care of it, Lancelot," Arthur assured him, glancing at the Saxon from the corner of his eye. The Saxon appeared unconcerned that he was walking into the heart of the enemy's stronghold, seemingly unafraid of any consequences that might befall him.

At the garrison, they met Bors and Gawain as they brought Lancelot to a healer, and after being assured that Caderyn was doing well despite the circumstances, they left both Lancelot and Caderyn in the healer's care, assured that the two knights would be well taken care of. Dayn, however, insisted on coming along to the main hall with the others, swearing that his wound wasn't severe enough for him to worry about at the moment. Aldric helped him to a chair, and Tristan moved over to examine the wound, knowing that Dayn would only see the healer after he heard what the Saxon had to say.

Wulflaf stood silently by the door as Arthur waited for Tristan to examine Dayn's wound while the others began to pass around cups of ale. They eyed him mistrustfully, but he returned their gazes unflinchingly, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes staring unfeelingly back at them.

"Arthur, we need to move against the remnants of the Saxon army," Gawain said, his eyes darting to the Saxon to see how he would respond to the announcement. But the Saxon stared impersonally back at him, his remote gaze never wavering.

"Gawain, I think we've had enough deaths for one day. And so many are hurt—our own as well as the Woads—that I question whether we have the strength for another fight this day."

"But Arthur, they're leaderless and without a tribal chief, they will no doubt be easily defeated."

"Leaderless?" the Saxon asked in a detached tone.

"Arthur killed the Saxon chieftain," Gawain answered, looking at Wulflaf intently.

"Ah, Cerdic is dead then," he said indifferently, the lack of feeling in his voice belying the satisfaction that blossomed in his eyes. "But you are wrong," he concluded, staring at Gawain aloofly.

"About what?" Gawain asked, his question punctuated by Dayn's sharp intake of breath as Tristan grasped the arrow in his chest firmly.

"Wulflaf, do you know who will rule in Cerdic's stead?" Arthur asked, interrupting before Wulflaf could answer Gawain.

"Unless someone is strong enough to challenge, bloodlines determine who will rule. Arthur killed Cerdic, I killed Cynric."

"And Cynric was…?"

"Cerdic's second born."

"So the firstborn will succeed Cerdic," Gawain concluded.

"Perhaps," the Saxon said enigmatically.

"What mean you?" Dayn asked, his question ending with a harsh cry as Tristan swiftly pulled the arrow from his chest. Dayn slumped, and Arthur caught him before he fell to the floor. Arthur waited until Tristan stepped forward to support Dayn before he turned to face Wulflaf once more, his eyebrow raised questioningly.

"I cannot say for certain, for challenges will be made that will determine who leads. Until the challenges are settled, I cannot tell you who will rule, for the ultimate ruler has not been decided."

"But as of right now, Cerdic's firstborn rules in his stead, yes?" Arthur asked. Wulflaf nodded, his features revealing nothing. "Know you this man?" Again the Saxon nodded, but didn't speak, and Arthur continued. "Do you know where we can find him?"

"You are looking at him," Wulflaf answered, meeting Arthur's gaze squarely. A shocked silence fell, the only noise Guenevere's swift intake of breath.

"You killed your own brother," she said with derision, staring at him with disgust. He turned his piercing blue gaze on her, his face devoid of emotion.

"Yes. I did."

"Arthur, this man cannot be trusted! Any man who would kill his own brother without remorse," she broke off, staring contemptuously at Wulflaf. "You bastard," she said scornfully. He suddenly exploded into action, his sword at her throat before she knew he was even moving. Hands dropped to swords all around the room as the knights waited to see what the Saxon would do. Knowing that if the Saxon made a move, Guenevere would be dead before they could react, Arthur motioned for everyone to hold.

"Do not speak of me as though you know me. Call me that again and, woman or not, I will kill you," Wulflaf told her, only his eyes revealing the cold rage within. He slowly stepped back, sheathing his sword, and a collective sigh of relief swept the room. He turned to face Arthur once more, once more schooling his features into a picture of indifference. "If I had not killed Cynric, your knight would be drinking with the dead in Valhalla now."

"Yes, and for that, I thank you." He walked closer to Wulflaf, standing face-to-face with the Saxon leader to look him in the eye. "I hope that we can work together to bring peace back to these lands."

"Yes, perhaps."

"If you are in command now, then can you order the Saxons to retreat?"

"If no one steps forward to challenge me, then yes. But I do not doubt that my position will be challenged."

"Why is that?" Bors asked.

"Because there are extenuating circumstances."

"Such as?" Guenevere asked, her eyes accusing and suspicious as she waited for the Saxon to explain.

"That is none of your concern. I must take my leave, Arthur. No doubt there will be those that will oppose me, and I must deal with them quickly."

"Perhaps we can be of assistance," Arthur offered, wanting to repay this man who had killed his own to save Lancelot. _There is also the possibility of an alliance, one which could prove beneficial for Britain. _

"Very well," Wulflaf answered after a moment of consideration. "Send who you will with me. Leave the woman here." He headed for the door and Arthur quickly assessed his remaining knights.

"Tristan, Bors, Gawain—you three will accompany Wulflaf and myself. Aldric, you and Galahad get Dayn settled, and check in on the others."

* * *

Following Wulflaf, Arthur and the three knights found themselves leaving the wall behind as they headed for the Saxon camp.

"Is this wise?" Gawain murmured to Arthur.

"Something tells me that we can trust him," Arthur answered back.

"A man who kills his brother without a second thought, and you want to trust him?" Gawain shook his head but didn't comment further.

Inside the perimeter of the Saxon camp that stood on the fields outside of Hadrian's Wall, the Saxons were in disarray as warriors tended to the wounded and tried to reorganize. Wulflaf strode boldly into the midst of the chaos, walking confidently amongst the warriors with his head raised defiantly. Stepping into the center of the camp, he motioned Arthur and the knights back, and planting his feet firmly, he pulled his sword from the sheath at his waist.

"Let all who seek to challenge step forward!" he yelled defiantly. Silence fell as Wulflaf's words echoed across the camp, and the knights looked questioningly at Arthur. Not understanding the Saxon words, Arthur could only shrug and turn to watch what happened as Saxon warriors began to approach Wulflaf on all sides.

* * *

A/N: Ok, let me know what you guys think so far! I know Tristan didn't get a huge part in this chapter, but it just didn't fit in this chapter well. Niamh and Tristan will have more scenes in coming chapters…I have to get the characters through with the immediate aftermath of Badon Hill before I can move back to Tristan/Niamh scenes and Dayn/Orainne scenes. Anyways, I figured I would respond to the reviews I got for the last chapter of "The Peril of Secrets," so this is for all my reviewers:

**Shallindra:** Tristan didn't make it into the last chapter because there was simply too much going on, and nothing more exciting for Tristan to do than fighting. He and Niamh will be back, so don't worry.

**Aelia O'Hession**: I love Hummingbird, so expect to see a lot of her in upcoming chapters.

**chiefhow**: Hummingbird, like most children, pops back quickly, so she'll pretty much be fine. Glad you liked Lancelot's line about Arthur's "great plan". Hope you'll keep reading and reviewing for me!

**KAfan**: Hope you're enjoying the sequel so far. Hummingbird is a permanent feature in this story, so expect to see her often. Keep reading and reviewing for me!

**Karina**: You know, I really like that you elaborated on why you didn't empathize with Dayn very easily instead of just saying "I don't like him." Anyways, expect to see Dayn tone it down a bit here, although I will warn you that it's very likely that Wulflaf will pick up the slack. But Tristan and Niamh will be pulled back in soon, so please stick with me and keep reading! Oh, and I'm glad you like Hummingbird. I should start a Hummingbird fan club, because so many reviewers tell me how much they love her! I love her, too! In your last review, you asked when this one would be coming out—if you check out my URL, then you'll see updates on all of my stories, which will give you an idea of when chapters will be posted. You'll definitely be learning more about Wulflaf as well as some other Saxons who will be added later. Thanks for the compliment about the battle scenes in Chp. 15 by the way…I struggle to write them, so it's good to know that the effort pays off.

**ModestySparrow9**: The reason that Chaos died was that Caderyn couldn't fight, and when it came to saving Hummingbird or Chaos, Caderyn had to make the decision to sacrifice the horse. I wanted to get that emotional drama across, how hard it would be for him to sacrifice his faithful horse. Glad you liked Adima's part. Anyways, keep reading and reviewing for me!

**Camreyn**: The review you sent was the longest review I've ever seen—a page and a half! Thanks so much for taking the time to review the way you do. I always love hearing from you, and your reviews always make me happy! And thanks for the compliments too. As for the idea you gave me, I had been toying with the idea of having Saxons, but it was supposed to be for a different story. But when you mentioned a sequel, it got me thinking, and I realized I could combine the two ideas in order to create a sequel. You certainly gave me a lot of suggestions in your last review, so I'm looking at each of them to see if I use them somehow. As far as Lancelot and the Woads go, we'll see…he may find one of them appealing. Oh, and the conversation in Chap. 15 between Arthur and Dayn right before the battle—that was definitely inspired by you. Glad you liked that bit about Hummingbird and God—I really liked that as well. As far as the Avatar goes, I made that up…I don't even know where I'm going with it really. I just thought it sounded cool—lol. As you've probably noticed, Wulflaf is definitely going to play a major part in this story. I'm going to be following him a lot more…much like I did with Dayn in the last fic. And yes, Chaos was a brave horse—Caderyn is going to miss him, certainly. Anyways, I think I addressed most of your comments. You should drop me an email sometime though…I'd love to run ideas by you sometime, and see what you think. Just a thought…


	2. Chapter 2: A Cloak of Indifference

Disclaimer: Pretty much anything that you don't recognize from the movie is mine. I think we all know this by now.

A/N: A special thanks to Camreyn for being my beta on this chapter!

Chapter 2: A Cloak of Indifference

Spotting Aldric, Orainne ran forward and grabbed the large man by the arm, her face tight with worry.

"Aldric, where's Dayn? Caireach said he was hurt! And something about Caderyn and Lancelot…" Orainne broke off as Aldric looked down at her with confusion, and she realized belatedly that he didn't understand her. Frustrated, she turned and looked around helplessly, mentally berating herself. _Oh, why did I tell Caireach and Muireann that I would be fine without them—I need one of them to translate! Now what am I going to do?_ "Where is Dayn?" she asked again, her Latin stilted, but understandable.

"Come with me. He's this way," Aldric told her kindly. He led her through a maze of passageways before finally coming to a stop by Dayn, who was resting comfortably. Orainne grabbed his hand as she sat down beside him, holding it tightly against her heart. He opened his eyes, smiling up at her lovingly.

"I was worried," she said softly.

"You shouldn't have—it's not good for the little one," he said, placing his hand on her stomach, his eyes softening. Though she barely showed, he was already thinking about the child growing inside her, wondering what the babe would be like. "Do you think our child a girl or a boy?" he asked, meeting her eyes.

"Which would you prefer?" she countered.

"I care not. I shall be happy either way." She smiled then, her face softening as she placed her hand over his on her abdomen. Her smile faded and her eyes stared seriously back at him.

"Dayn, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, love. The arrow did little damage. Lance was hurt worse than I." Orainne's eyes widened and filled with tears.

"Lancelot is hurt? He's not going to die, is he?" Without waiting for an answer, Orainne began to cry, and Dayn fought back a smile as he painfully leaned forward to envelop her in a hug. She proceeded to bawl all over the front of his tunic and Dayn ruminated over how far she'd come. _A few days ago, she was terrified of Lance, and now she's crying over him. _

"Orainne, Lance isn't dead. He's going to be fine," he murmured, stroking her hair. She sat back suddenly, looking at him suspiciously.

"Really?" she sniffled.

"Really," he said with a smile. Her face turned an alarming shade of red, and she stood, her hands fisted and planted squarely on her hips.

"So you let me think he was dead? How could you do that to me, Dayn?" she asked incredulously. Confusion swept over him as she railed at him. It wasn't like her to get angry this way. Usually, she gave him the silent treatment. Actually, she hardly ever became angry—Dayn's temper was more than enough for the both of them.

"What ails you, woman?" he blurted out, knowing it was a mistake the second the words left his mouth. Her face darkened with fury, and he started trying to backtrack and apologize. "Orainne, I…"

"What ails me! You let me think that a friend was dead, and you ask what ails me!"

"Two days ago, you didn't even like him!" Dayn argued, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was before he saved me from Roman hands," she replied indignantly. "You sat there and let me get all upset and I'm sure you thought it was amusing."

"You're getting upset over nothing!"

"So now our friend's life is nothing!"

"That's not what I meant!" Dayn could feel his face heating as the argument continued, and finally, Orainne gave him a scathing look and turned her back on him. "Where are you going?"

"To see Lancelot. At least he's sensible." Dayn's jaw dropped as she stalked away from him, her chin held high as she left him standing there.

"Forget it, boy." Dayn turned to see Aldric standing beside him with a rueful grin.

"Forget what?"

"Trying to figure her out. She's a woman, and we're just not meant to understand them." Dayn smiled, and shook his head.

"I think you're right. And it sure is exhausting to try."

* * *

Hummingbird held Caireach's hand in her left hand, and Muireann's hand in her right hand, laughing happily as they swung her between them. 

"My mama will be here soon," she told them with a smile. "Aldric said so, and he's always right. He said Galahad went to fetch the caravan back, so they'll be here soon, I just know it! Oh, and you can meet my brothers and sisters, too!"

"Do you have many?" Caireach asked, quite charmed by the exuberant little girl.

"Yep. There's eleven of us in all!" Suddenly, she paused, her face lighting up at the sight of the wagons returning. She let go of Caireach and Muireann and raced toward the wagons. "Mama!"

Vanora leapt from the back of one of the wagons and ran for Hummingbird with her arms outstretched. Hummingbird flew into her mother's open arms with a happy cry, squeezing her tightly with all the strength in her small frame._ Everything's good now,_ Hummingbird thought, basking in the love and affection of her mother.

Tears ran down Vanora's face as she held the filthy little girl to her chest, uncaring of the blood and dirt caked on Hummingbird, just happy that her child was safe in her arms once more.

Niamh jumped out of the wagon behind Vanora, looking around eagerly for any sign of Tristan. Galahad rode up beside her, smiling down at her with amusement.

"Tristan's alright, Niamh. But don't expect to see him right away—he's with Arthur. They went with Bors and Gawain to the Saxon camp."

"What? Why?"

"We have a chance at peace with the Saxons. Arthur thought it worthwhile to pursue. Don't worry, Niamh, I'm sure Tristan will be fine."

Niamh bit her lip nervously, hoping that Galahad was right. After spending the entire day worried sick about him, she had hoped to find him here waiting for her. An end to the worry…but it was not to be, for he was gone again. She rubbed at her eyes tiredly as Galahad looked on sympathetically. She gave him a smile, but it did not reach her eyes as she turned to walk back to the wagon. _I might as well help with Dagonet. He'll need to be returned to his quarters._

"Galahad, what about Caderyn? Is he well?"

"He's with the healers, now. He's alive." _Well at least there's that. _

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Lancelot and Dayn, but their injuries aren't life-threatening. They're both resting."

"Well, you might as well help with Dagonet, Galahad. We could use the help getting him back to his quarters." Galahad nodded and dismounted, following her back to the wagon where Dagonet was. They paused, watching Hummingbird squeal happily as Vanora swung her around happily. "Vanora was so afraid, Galahad. I can see why—she's such a precious child."

"She's something alright," Galahad agreed with a grin. They watched a moment longer before they finally turned and walked to the wagon where Dagonet rested.

"Did everyone make it?" Dagonet asked softly, as they carefully helped him to sit up.

"Yeah, Dagonet, we all made it," Galahad said with a smile.

* * *

Brushing aside pain and fatigue, Lancelot watched Caderyn with worry in his dark brown eyes as the other knight moaned softly in his sleep. _Caderyn, why do you have to be such a hero, huh? You almost got yourself killed today, and for what?_ But then he thought of Hummingbird and he knew that he would've done the same. He reached out and placed his hand on Caderyn's forearm, ignoring the pain elicited by the movement. Caderyn fell quiet once more and Lancelot slowly withdrew his hand, watching Caderyn's face relax into peaceful sleep. 

Lancelot slowly eased back down and tried to calm the adrenaline that had yet to wear off after the battle. The arrow in his chest had been removed and Lancelot found his breathing somewhat restricted by the bandaging around his chest.

A familiar voice caught his attention and he looked over to see Orainne hurrying toward him anxiously. With a happy grin, she sprung for the bed, grabbing his hand and squeezing it tightly between her own.

"Oh, Lancelot, I'm so happy you're alright! The gods be praised!" He had no idea what she said, but he smiled at the glee on her face.

"I guess this means you're happy to see me," he said with a smirk as she cradled his hand.

"Dayn let me think you'd been killed," she said, continuing to speak despite the fact that neither understood the other.

"I have no idea what you just said to me," he murmured.

"She said that Dayn let her think you'd been killed." The answer came from behind Orainne and he looked up to see two Woad women coming forward to stand at Orainne's shoulder. They were a study in contrast, and Lancelot couldn't help but think about how much fun he could have with the two of them.

One of them had long, wavy reddish-blond hair and gray eyes that showed a hint of green in their depths. _Those eyes can't quite hide her emotions, despite the expressionless face she wears,_ Lancelot thought. The other woman was taller, with ebony hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her eyes were a light amber brown and she looked down at him with a guarded expression even as she translated for Orainne.

Orainne smiled up to the two of them from where she sat on the side of Lancelot's bed. "Caireach," she said, pointing to the dark-haired woman, "and Muireann," she said, pointing to the other.

"It's a pleasure," Lancelot said, his trademark grin in place. Caireach rolled her eyes, but the quieter one blushed a pretty shade of pink, a testament to her fair coloring.

"Is Arthur alright?" Orainne asked, bringing Lancelot's attention back. Caireach translated the question, and Lancelot's face darkened with a combination of annoyance and worry.

"He went with some of the others to help the Saxon."

"The Saxon?" Orainne asked after Caireach translated.

"During the battle, a Saxon came to my aid."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. And that's what worries me."

* * *

Darkness began to descend as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. Arthur stood on the Wall, watching the Saxon camp in the distance with worry in his eyes. It had been hours, and yet there'd been no sign of Wulflaf. 

"You're worried," Gawain said from behind him, coming to stand beside him on the Wall.

"Yes. He's our only hope for peace, Gawain. Without him, I fear this war could go on for years." Gawain looked down and said nothing, hoping that Wulflaf was trustworthy. "The others—are they well?" Arthur asked, changing the subject.

"Tristan is with Niamh, and I imagine she's taking good care of him," Gawain said with a grin. "Dagonet is resting in his quarters once more, and Dayn and Lancelot are in the infirmary being kept company by Orainne and the two Woads that accompany Orainne. Caderyn is there as well."

"Ah, I see. And Bors?"

"With Vanora and the little ones. Trying to keep an eye on Hummingbird, I'm sure. She scared them."

"She scared all of us, I think. But what of Aldric and Galahad?"

"Seeing to the horses last time I checked. They've no doubt headed for a tavern by now." Arthur nodded, and silence fell. But Arthur had a feeling it was a deceptive silence. He turned back to the Saxon camp, watching and wondering at the apparent stillness. Fires burned there, and Arthur burned as well, burned with a curiosity to know what was happening and with a gripping anxiety to know the outcome. "Do you think there will be peace, Arthur?" Gawain asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"It seems too much to hope, doesn't it? But we must have faith, Gawain. My God has brought me this far, and I do not think he will abandon us now. He will not lead us astray." Gawain frowned at Arthur's answer, but didn't comment, deciding not to mention that he didn't have Arthur's faith in the Roman's Christian God.

"The Saxon appears to be a formidable opponent…but is he capable of holding off all who challenge him? There seemed to be considerable amount of discontent among the Saxons when he stepped forward."

"Yes, I know. Though by all rights he should be their ruler, they were not overly accepting of him. That's what worries me."

"Arthur, the hour grows late--" Gawain began.

"I will stay until the Saxon returns, Gawain." Gawain leaned wearily against the wall, deciding to remain with Arthur despite his tiredness. _If Arthur wants to be foolish and remain out here until the Saxon shows up, then who am I to leave him alone in his foolishness._ Besides, he wasn't sure he trusted the Saxon enough to want Arthur left alone with him when he arrived. _If he arrived._

Gawain knew not how long they waited until a cry from one of the Woad sentries jerked him out of an exhausted stupor. He straightened as Arthur was alerted to the appearance of three figures stepping out of the early morning mist. The sun had not yet risen, but Gawain could tell by the position of the stars that a considerable time had passed since Arthur had last spoken.

"Open the gate!" Arthur called, rushing down the stairs with Gawain at his heels. The heavy gates creaked open to reveal Wulflaf and another Saxon stumbling toward them with a third man held between them. Wulflaf's eyes were piercing as he raised his head to meet Arthur's gaze, staring coolly at him as Arthur stepped forward. Though Wulflaf was covered in blood, Arthur suspected that most of it was not his own as the Saxon warrior did not show any weakness. The Saxon Wulflaf supported appeared to have taken a blow to the head and was bleeding from a gash at his temple. The other Saxon, like Wulflaf, seemed weary but unhurt as he helped Wulflaf support the Saxon between them.

"Halig is hurt," Wulflaf told him as Arthur hurried forward. "Take him. I have to go back. There is another I must return for—he is injured as well."

"What happened?" Arthur asked as he stepped forward to place Halig's arm over his shoulder.

"The tribes are splitting. There are men who would fight by my side, men that I will need if I am forced to fight the tribes who oppose me."

"The tribes are splitting—what does that mean?"

"I have not the time to explain it to you now—later," Wulflaf said impatiently. Lufian will stay here with Halig," he said, nodding towards the second Saxon.

"Wait. I'll gather some of my knights—we'll follow you."

"Very well, but go quickly—I haven't time to spare." Arthur could see the weariness that Wulflaf was struggling to hide, and he knew how hard it was for the bold Saxon to accept Arthur's offer of aid.

"Gawain, fetch Tristan. I'll go for Bors—we know their whereabouts for sure! Go quickly!" As Gawain hurried off, Arthur called out to one of the Woad sentries, motioning for him to approach. "Help these men—see to it that they are taken care of." The Woad sneered but stepped forward to do as Arthur commanded, taking Arthur's place at Halig's side.

Arthur quickly ran through the garrison to where Bors and Vanora had made their home, pulling a reluctant Bors from his sleep. They hurried back to the gate, Bors buckling on his sword belt as they met Tristan and Gawain running from the opposite direction.

Wulflaf was waiting there impatiently, kneeling in the grass with his sword in hand. When he saw them, he straightened and turned without a word, heading straight back toward the Saxon camp, confident that they were behind him.

As they neared the camp, Arthur could at last see the chaos that had engulfed the Saxons. Sharp, guttural yells filled the air, mingling with the sounds of steel clashing as the Saxons had turned against one another. Wulflaf led the way, seeming to know exactly where he was going amidst the disarray that had overtaken the Saxon camp.

"Is this wise? I mean, we're walking into the heart of the Saxon camp with only four knights and a Saxon who is clearly not well-liked by many of his comrades," Gawain commented to Bors as they followed Wulflaf.

"Probably not," Bors said with a grin. "But then, that's never stopped us before. Why would it now?"

Wulflaf led them through a maze of turns, darting between tents and fires alike, before he came to an abrupt halt in front of a man tied to a post buried in the ground, his eyes glazed with pain as Wulflaf knelt before him.

"Offa," Wulflaf said, looking grimly at the warrior before him, and as Gawain neared, he winced in sympathy. A spear protruded from high in his leg, near the juncture of his thigh, effectively pinning him to the ground. Sweat beaded the man's forehead, and he was obviously in tremendous pain. Wulflaf reached for the spear, but Tristan's hand shot out, grabbing his arm before he could remove it.

"Wait. If you do that, his lifeblood will spill before you could get him to a healer." Wulflaf's eyes narrowed as he turned an icy, blue stare on Tristan.

"What would you have me do?"

"Is there a healer that can help us?"

"We are Saxon—we do not have these 'healers' you speak of." Gawain shook his head in disbelief at Wulflaf's answer. _Savages, all of them._

"Suppose we fetch one of ours," Bors remarked.

"Our healers have had no rest all day—they're busy with our own wounded," Gawain said pointedly, shooting a look at Wulflaf.

"What about Orainne, Arthur?" Tristan suggested. "She's had some training."

"Dayn will never go for that," Gawain countered.

"So don't tell him," Tristan said coolly, staring up at Gawain with dispassionate eyes.

"Very well," Arthur said. "Tristan, take Bors and go for Orainne. And be discreet—Dayn doesn't need to know." Tristan and Bors hurried off while Wulflaf busied himself with cutting Offa's bonds. The gentleness with which he helped Offa lie back belied the indifferent air that he wore like a second skin, and Gawain thought the contradiction puzzling.

"Wulflaf, you have to find Sæthryth," Offa murmured, his voice tight with pain as he fought not to succumb to the pain and darkness that threatened to envelop him.

"I will take care of it soon," he told Offa as Arthur and Gawain stood guard around them. "When they return with one of their healers." Offa appeared ready to argue, but one look from Wulflaf told him it was pointless to argue. Offa knew that Wulf would only act when he was ready to act, though it pained him to let the matter go.

As they waited for the others to return, Wulf burned to fight, and it was only his ironclad control that allowed him to resist the urge to look for someone he could kill—anyone to quiet the pain and anger that tormented him. He did not offer comfort to Offa, because it would not be welcomed, nor did he know how to comfort. That part of him had died long ago, leaving behind a cold, unfeeling shell of a man who found very little in this world worth comforting.

"I am sorry for your friend's injury," Arthur said, breaking into Wulf's thoughts.

"He is not my friend."

"No? Then what?"

"A potential ally, nothing more. I do not know him well enough to count him as a friend." Wulf didn't mention that he did not have friends. It was not in his nature to make friends. He cared only for the few men who were loyal to him, and he kept himself distanced from them, now, as well. Now, he only involved himself with those who served some purpose for him.

"Why was he tied up and left this way?" Arthur asked.

"He refused to fight."

"So why didn't Cerdic just kill him?" Gawain asked. "He doesn't seem the type to tolerate insubordination."

"Killing Offa would have had repercussions that Cerdic could ill afford at the time. He would have killed him eventually, but for the time, he needed him alive for strategic reasons."

"What's so important about him?"

"Offa is heir to one of the seven tribes, sent to fight in his father's stead," Wulf told him evenly. "If Cerdic had killed him on the eve of battle, it would have meant rebellion among Offa's men."

"Wait—I thought Cerdic was your leader…"

"My leader, yes. Offa's no. At least, not initially. What you fail to understand is that though we are all Saxon, we are not of one people, nor are we of one mind. My father simply had the strength to command—he took control of four of the seven tribes, and they fought for him. Some did so willingly, others not so willingly. Offa's tribe was one of the latter. They did not care for Cerdic, but they lacked the strength to resist. Offa thought he should defy Cerdic on his latest decision, and refused to fight in the battle against the painted people. Now he pays the price for his defiance."

"So your army is composed of many tribes then?"

"Yes. But as I said, the tribes are beginning to splinter, now that Cerdic is dead."

"And this is because Cerdic is dead or do they dislike you that much?" Gawain asked.

"Both, neither—pick one."

"Well, will you seek to keep them together?" Gawain continued.

"Perhaps."

"What do you mean? You either will or you won't," Gawain said impatiently, tired of the Saxon's enigmatic answers.

"It means what it means." Wulf was not in the habit of sharing his thoughts with anyone, and he had no intention of starting now. He could sense the mistrust the blond knight held , but he cared not for what the Sarmatians thought of him. Just as he cared little for what anyone thought of him. He had long since stopped caring about anyone, not even himself. His eyes suddenly shifted at the return of the knights with a young woman—_a girl, really_, Wulf thought disdainfully—followed by one of the painted people, a female with dark hair.

"Who's this?" Arthur asked, nodding at the Woad who accompanied Orainne.

"Caireach," the woman said. "You didn't want Dayn to know about this, and you need someone to translate. I'm it."

Wulf watched as the girl knelt down by Offa with sympathy in her eyes as she looked over his injury.

"You bring this girl here? How will she be able to care for him—she is nothing more than a child."

"She's old enough. And she's has some skill in the art of healing," Arthur said, ignoring the belligerent tone in Wulflaf's voice. Orainne's voice cut in, and Wulflaf turned at the sound of her words. He knew not what she said, but he admired the musical way in which she spoke. He shook off his admiration, though, and turned to the other woman for the translation.

"The spear pins him to the ground, yes?" Orainne asked. Wulflaf nodded in answer to her question. "How long has he been this way?"

Everyone's eyes went to Wulflaf, and he looked squarely back at each of them before shrugging. "It is hard to say. But it would have been since before the battle, obviously." _Hell of a long time to be left like this_, Gawain thought with sympathy.

"We should not remove the spear until we return to your Wall, Arthur," Orainne continued. "But we need to break it off, so that we are not hindered by it when we move him." She eyed the spear, and when Wulflaf heard the translation, he realized what she meant. The spear was as tall as she was, and though it was not one of the longer spears, it was still enough to make a journey back to the wall difficult and no doubt painful. Orainne looked around at all of them for a moment before seeming to come to a decision. "Tristan, your sword is sharpest, but I think Bors has a more powerful swing—hand him your sword."

Tristan complied without a word, and Orainne continued. "You must help Arthur and Gawain to hold the Saxon—we cannot afford for him to move when the spear is broken." The three men moved forward to hold Offa down, and Wulflaf looked at Orainne, waiting for her to tell him where he was needed. "You, Saxon…I am small. You'll have to help me hold the shaft of the spear so that it remains in place when Bors cuts it." She placed her hands low on the shaft, and looked up at him expectantly. Slowly, he reached out and placed his hands below hers, his eyes betraying the effort it took for him to trust her.

"This will hurt you, and for that I am sorry," Orainne said, smoothing Offa's hair back from his face with a sad smile before one again placing her hand on the spear. Offa knew not what she said, but he didn't need to. Her tone told him all he needed to know, and he nodded at her, closing his eyes in anticipation of the swing. "Bors, swing with a steady hand," Orainne told the large knight. Bors nodded at Caireach's translation and stepped forward, angling himself so that he would not hit any of the others. The knights tightened their hold on Offa, pressing him firmly against the ground as Bors swung. Orainne buried her face in Wulflaf's shoulder, even as her hands held tightly to the shaft, and Wulflaf looked down at her small frame before turning his attention back to Offa.

Tristan's sword cut through the shaft cleanly, and Offa let out a harsh yell that was quickly cut off as he succumbed to darkness. Orainne moved quickly while he was oblivious to the pain, slipping her hand underneath him to see how deeply the head of the spear was embedded in the ground. She motioned to the men to lift Offa gently, while she kept her hand on the spear, pulling the tip from the ground even as they lifted Offa.

"We must hurry," Orainne told them, coming at last to her feet, her hands going to the small of her back to rub at the ache that was settling there. Wulflaf watched her with speculative eyes, before a motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a familiar figure darting furtively between the tents. He suddenly sprinted forward, and grabbed the figure by the neck from the shadows, pulling him toward the light while the others looked on with curiosity.

Wulflaf's hand closed around the scrawny figure's neck, his cold gaze burning as he practically lifted the man from the ground.

"It would appear that the information you gave my father was gravely mistaken," he told the spy with the hint of a malicious smirk on his face. The unfortunate Briton gazed at Wulflaf with terror-filled eyes, his breath coming in great gasps as fear overwhelmed him. "But perhaps I will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Would you like that?" he said, his eyes gazing at him without feeling. The Briton nodded fearfully, or as much as he could with Wulflaf's large hand around his throat. "The woman. Where is she?" Wulflaf asked. Geoffrey fought to loosen the grip that Wulflaf had on his throat, struggling to speak.

"I don't know," he told Wulflaf with a gasp.

"You lie," Wulflaf said coldly, his fingers tightening around Geoffrey's throat as he stared dispassionately at the simpering Briton.

"No!" Geoffrey croaked, his fingers pulling at Wulflaf's hand with no effect.

"If you lie to me again, I'll kill you. Now where is she? I will not ask again."

"Cynric ordered us to take her to his tent. He wanted to have her when the battle was won." Wulflaf stared coldly at him, his icy gaze searching the spy's face for signs that he spoke falsely. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to the others.

"Go on without me—I will follow you soon enough," he told Arthur.

"Do you need one of us to remain?" Arthur asked.

"No. The fighting is scattered now, and I won't be long." Besides, he had no desire for them to watch his every move as they most assuredly did when he was around. Wulflaf knew that they all wanted to know what his motives were, but he had no intention of letting them find out. There were a few others to gather to him, if they were willing, but he knew they would be less likely to follow if the Sarmatians were standing there.

"You're certain?"

"Yes. There are others that I need to find, nothing more."

"Others?" Gawain asked. "So we're to let the Saxons have free run of the garrison, now? Just how many are you planning to collect?"

"Gawain," Arthur said, a warning sounding clearly in both tone and look. All of the knights were wary of the Saxon, and Arthur didn't blame them, but he knew well enough that they couldn't afford to alienate him. And as much as Arthur hated to admit it, they needed him. "Wulflaf, is it necessary to bring others into the garrison?"

"They are men who will stand with me, Artair," he said, ignoring Gawain as he addressed Arthur. "Without their help, your peace will not happen. I cannot stand against those who would oppose me without them. And without me, these lands will fall under constant attack."

"Is that a threat?" Gawain asked, his eyes narrowed.

"No, it is the truth," Wulflaf said, turning his chilly gaze on Gawain, his hand still wrapped around Geoffrey's throat. Suddenly, a small hand on his forearm ripped his attention away from Gawain, and he looked down to see Orainne staring up at him with a plaintive expression on her face.

"There is no time for this." Caireach repeated Orainne's words, and Wulflaf nodded, seeing the truth in the girl's words.

"Go, now. Take care of Offa. I will follow." As Wulf watched them hurry away with Offa, the sun was just beginning to rise, cutting through the mist as its rays of warmth hit the earth. Wulf turned back to Geoffrey, and pulled the spy even with him, so that he could stare him in the face. "Come. If she is not where you say, you will find that I am more my father's son than you know. I too do not forgive."

* * *

A/N: For anyone who is curious, Artair is an Anglo-Saxon variation of the name Arthur. I figured it would be more realistic to have Wulflaf use the Saxon name for Arthur…that, and it just sounds cool. Also, I know there are some of you who are just dying for more Tristan/Niamh scenes, and I just wanted to let you know, I'm working on it. These first chapters are forcing my hand, so to speak, because I've got to get the foundation laid for the new characters before I can get back to the others. But don't worry, I'm not forgetting you T/N fans! 

**anonymous**: Um, you didn't leave a name…so, I hope you know who you are, and that you get this message. I'm glad you're enjoying my stories! I'm sorry that you have to wait for updates from me, but as I am working on three stories at once, it takes me awhile to get to each one. And I don't like to do short chapters, so writing something substantial can be time consuming. School also interferes, so I get to them when I can. Anyways, keep reading and reviewing for me!

**Amirra**: Hey, glad you like my Saxon…how do you like the new ones? Of course, none of them have developed characters yet, but that's coming. There are several more Saxons that are still to come—they'll show up in the next chapter. Glad you like Hummingbird as well—you haven't seen the last of her!

**Camreyn**: Thanks again forbeing a betafor me! I always appreciate your insight. Anyways, I'm glad to know that someone reads my URL, and that I'm not wasting my time putting update notes on there. And I'm glad you like the Southern accent—lol!

**chiefhow**: Yeah, Cynric was kind of a jerk…but then, he was a product of his upbringing, so some of its not his fault, I suppose. But for my purposes, he had to go. And as for Caderyn—I just couldn't kill him off—he's one of my favorites too!

**ModestySparrow9**: I'm glad you find Wulflaf interesting…I'm going for the mysterious angle with him…keep everyone guessing a bit. And I'm glad you enjoyed the Tristan scenes. Sorry I couldn't add any good ones in here, but I'll get back to him as soon as I can.

**dmitchell1974**: Glad you enjoyed Peril of Secrets, and I hope you'll keep reading! Thanks for the compliments concerning my character development—I give special attention to my characters, and it's nice to know that someone noticed!


	3. Chapter 3: Forming Alliances

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, everyone. I realize that it has been almost a month since I last updated this fic, and I feel terrible about it, but I justgraduated from college and started a new job, so as you can imagine, things have been a little busy onmy part. Thanks for your patience, and I promise to do better with updates in the future.

Chapter 3—Forming Alliances

Wulflaf made his way confidently through the Saxon camp, showing no fear of resistance from anyone. It mattered not to him, for if there were those who opposed him he would either kill or be killed. It was as simple as that, and Wulflaf had no fear of death. Some of this must have shown on his face, because no one approached him.

Geoffrey, the coward who had betrayed his own, stumbled and fell as Wulflaf dragged him toward Cynric's tent. Geoffrey could feel the sweat trickling down his back as he prayed that the woman was still where Cynric had left her. If the other Saxons had discovered her, then there was no way of knowing where she was now, and Geoffrey had a feeling that she wouldn't be well. From his brief dealings with the Saxons, they weren't known for their gentility towards females, and even their own females wouldn't be safe. _Oh, may the gods grant that she is still in the tent._ He knew well enough that Wulflaf would not be merciful, for his wrath was ever wakeful, and he was well known for dispensing punishment. Many who crossed him didn't live long enough to do so again, and Geoffrey had no doubt that Cerdic's son would hold him accountable for the Saxon woman.

Shoving Geoffrey ahead of him, Wulflaf stepped into Cynric's tent, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly at the memories that assailed him upon entering, memories of seeing Cerdic bestow gifts upon his younger son while favoring the older with a blow. Memories of fighting with Cynric and his friends when they'd been naught but children. Most of all, he remembered watching his mother hold her head up despite her pain, and it was that thought that hardened his heart against the memories and drove him forward.

He shook his head to dispel the memories and looked around for the woman. Offa's sister. He almost didn't see her, but a flash of gold caught his eye as he turned, and his eyes found her huddling in the corner behind a mound of furs and bounty. His powerful form strode toward her, towering over her as she looked up at him with frightened eyes. He made quick work of the chain that had kept her from escaping, but still she didn't move.

"Get up. We're leaving," he told her, ignoring the trembling of her slight figure. When she didn't move, he leaned down and took a firm hold on her arm, pulling her to her feet. As he dragged her outside, he glanced down at Geoffrey, who still sat on the ground where Wulflaf had dropped him. "It looks as though you get to live this time," he said with a cold gleam in his eyes. With a last look of disdain at the spy, he pulled Sæthryth outside, unmindful of her futile struggles to pull away from him.

"Offa," she yelled, straining to escape his hold, and suddenly he turned on her, wheeling around to face her. He jerked her forward, bringing her up against him.

"Shut up! You put us both at risk, and though I told your brother I would bring you to him, I will not fight off Cerdic's men for you. Now be silent," he told her harshly, his voice low even as his eyes sparked with anger. Realizing that in his own abrasive way he was trying to help her, Sæthryth ceased to struggle and followed him willingly, not resisting when he pulled her along behind him.

He moved quickly and quietly, working his way towards the east end of the camp where Broga's tribe, the Tamar, was camped alongside the Benoic tribe. Moving into their camp, he let go of Sæthryth's arm and grabbed a passing sentry.

"Where is Broga?"

"The center of camp," the sentry answered, recognizing Wulflaf's face. With a brief nod, Wulflaf motioned for Sæthryth to follow him, and she moved up beside him, clinging to his arm as the sentry leered at her. Something told her that she was safer with him than with the sentry.

Wulf motioned for the woman to keep quiet, giving her a fierce look before he led the way toward the center of the camp. Funeral pyres continued to burn, sending thick plumes of smoke into the burgeoning light of dawn. The early morning chill had not yet left, and behind him, Sæthryth shivered, rubbing her bare arms in a vain attempt to fight off the cold. Wulf heaved a long-suffering sigh, and turned abruptly to face her.

"Foolish woman. Why did you not grab one of the furs from Cynric's tent?" he asked disdainfully.

"I would take nothing that belonged to that cur," she replied scathingly.

"You have little love for my brother."

Realizing that perhaps she had misspoken, she stepped back, fearful that he may have taken offense at her insult.

"Fear not, sister of Offa, for I too have little love for my brother." He slid his own fur off his shoulders and thrust it into her hands before turning away once more. After a moment's hesitation, she followed him, wrapping the fur around her securely.

So it was that Wulflaf boldly strolled into the center of Broga's camp, purposefully approaching a long-bearded Saxon many years his senior who sat by the fire. Though he was considered an elder, Broga was by no means weak, and he ruled his tribe with an iron hand, strong but fair.

"You stayed away from the fighting this night." Wulf spoke in a loud voice, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as several of Broga's warriors stepped forward, their swords by their sides, ready to step in if Wulflaf threatened their lord.

"Does it concern me who will rule in Cerdic's stead? I have my own people to worry about. Whoever rules will have my allegiance should he be wise enough to ask for it."

"Yes, I know. That is why I have come."

"And do you rule now, Wulflaf? Your own tribe is loathe to accept you as their king, and you think to rule us all?"

"My tribe will accept me or suffer for their disobedience. They will learn well the consequences should they question my authority. My father taught me well," he replied coldly.

"So you come to ask that I support you in your claim?"

"No. I come simply to inform you that I will rule. You either follow me, or you do not. But know this—I will kill anyone who challenges me."

"Do you threaten me, son of Aedre?"

"No. I simply wish to make myself known. You think me full of empty threats, Broga, but I promise you this—I will stand by my word. Those who oppose me will die, for I will not be ignored, nor will I suffer any longer the insults of my enemies. Long did I endure the slurs of others and did nothing," Wulflaf said, his words filled with quiet rage. "I did nothing because my mother feared what my father would do. But now I will not be silenced, nor will my hand be stayed any longer." Broga eyed the younger man, silent as he considered Wulflaf's words.

"You want my allegiance?" Broga asked finally. Wulflaf nodded, his steady gaze locked on Broga. "Then you shall have it," Broga said resolutely.

"You would follow _him_?" One of Broga's men stepped forward, a sneer on his face as he looked at Wulflaf with disdain. "Even his own father wouldn't name him heir, and for good reason. Why should we pledge allegiance to one such as you, Wulflaf?"

Wulflaf strode toward him resolutely and, in lieu of an answer, drove his sword into the belly of the offending Saxon. He jerked his sword from the Saxon's body, watching dispassionately as the man hit the ground before he turned once more to face the others.

"Does anyone else wish to question me?" Wulflaf asked, his sword dripping blood on the grass as he eyed them all coldly. No one stepped forward, and Wulflaf turned to Broga.

"Gather the others. I would speak with them ere we settle with Britain. Bid them be ready when the sun is at its peak."

"Will we not stay and fight, Wulflaf?"

"That remains to be seen."

* * *

Tristan slowly made his way back to his quarters, feeling weariness drag at him as the aches and pains of the previous day's battle finally caught up with him. As he stepped into his quarters, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room before he entered. Placing his sword at his bedside, he stared down at the still form that lay in the middle of the bed, hugging a pillow close. _Niamh. _She slept deeply, something that Tristan could seldom afford to do, for it was only those who had little worries who slept so soundly. Not wanting to startle her, he sat down on the edge of the bed and softly called her name. 

Hearing her name, Niamh's lashes lifted and she smiled when she saw Tristan.

"I was waiting for you," she murmured, lowering her eyes shyly.

"There were duties I had to attend to before I could seek rest," he said, removing his boots without looking at her.

"You are weary," she said, watching as he pulled his tunic over his head.

"Yes."

"Do you wish me to go?" she asked, gazing down at her hands, which were tightly clenched in her lap.

"Do you wish to go?" he countered, looking at her once more.

"I would stay if you will have me," she said softly, and Tristan was suddenly struck by the trust he saw in her gaze. It scared him that she trusted him that much, and a part of him whispered in his mind that to encourage her was unwise. But another part of him savored her trust in him. The truth was, he had started to have feelings for her, and deep down he knew there was no going back. As much as he may have wished to feel nothing for her, there was no erasing her from his life. In a short time, she had become a part of him, and Tristan silently acknowledged to himself that Niamh was his.

"Then stay," he replied. A sweet smile slowly blossomed on her face as she came into his arms, hugging him tightly as he held her. Tears slowly fell from her eyes as she felt a sense of peace steal through her. She cried because Tristan asked nothing more of her than she was willing to give. And she cried because Tristan accepted her despite everything. But most of all, she cried because, even though he didn't say it, she knew that in his own way, Tristan loved her. Finally, she was where she belonged.

* * *

Dayn gave the healer a dark look, his eyes promising pain if the healer did not move out of his way. 

"I would advise you not to deter me any longer. My temper is not so slow that I will warn you again." The healer shook his head reluctantly, powerless to stop Dayn from leaving. Short of calling for the other knights to restrain him, there was nothing he could do to stop the young knight. Lancelot eyed the two with a smile, pleased to see that for once, it wasn't him who had to deal with Dayn.

"You know, you should probably listen to him, Dayn. He knows more than you or I about injuries such as ours."

"I care not what he does or does not know, Lance. I do not wish to stay here any longer, and I will not be kept here against my will."

"Fine. Give Orainne my love," he said with a smirk. Dayn gave him a dirty look before pushing open the door and striding outside. The sun was well above the horizon, and Dayn wondered belatedly how long he'd slept. He had a sneaking suspicion that the healer had had him drugged, and he vowed to get even with the man one day.

Spotting Galahad ahead, he hurried forward, ignoring the pain radiating outward from his wound as he called out to the other knight. Galahad turned with a smile, grasping Dayn's forearm in greeting as Dayn did the same.

"Galahad, have you seen Orainne? She wasn't there when I woke."

"She's probably resting, Dayn. It hasn't been that long since they returned."

"Returned? From where?"

"Didn't you know? Some of the others took her with them to the Saxon camp to help one of Wulflaf's men." Dayn grabbed Galahad by the collar of his tunic, jerking him forward with incredulous anger.

"They did what?"

"They needed someone with healing skills, and our own healers were busy," Galahad said a bit nervously.

"And no one thought to ask me what I thought about my woman being dragged into an enemy camp?" Galahad belatedly realized that the news had purposefully been kept from Dayn in order to prevent precisely what was happening.

"I'm sure she was perfectly safe, Dayn. Arthur wouldn't have had the others fetch her if it were otherwise."

Dayn's face grew dark with anger, and he thrust Galahad away from him.

"Where is Arthur?"

"Um, I'm not sure. He's probably resting as well, but then again, with so much going on, he might already be at the Round Table conferring with Aldric. We're all supposed to meet there shortly."

"I shall seek him there, then, after I find Orainne" Dayn said, his voice low with anger. As Dayn stormed off, Galahad wondered if he should do something. _Someone should probably warn the others that Dayn is pissed off, but it's unlikely that I'll reach them before Dayn does. At least I'm blameless this time,_ Galahad thought with a sigh of relief.

* * *

Arthur looked up when the door opened and began to smile when he saw Bors helping Dagonet walk in. Though Dagonet leaned heavily on Bors, he gave Arthur a weak smile, pleased to be out of bed for a time. Aldric hurried over to aid Bors, and together the two men helped Dagonet take his usual seat at the Round Table. 

"It's good to see you up and about again, Dagonet," Arthur said with a smile.

"It's good to be up and about again," Dagonet replied gruffly. The other knights began to trickle in, and Arthur felt his heart lighten as his knights, his faithful friends gathered once more. Even though a few of the knights were still too injured to join them, having the others at his side gave Arthur the feeling that perhaps his knights could find peace, that no one else had to die in battle.

"Knights," he began, "I've invited the Saxons to join us today." The men fell silent as they stared incredulously at their commander.

"What? Arthur, you can't," Gawain protested, but Arthur turned a stern gaze on the long-haired knight.

"Gawain, we must. If we expect to bring peace to these lands, then we cannot afford to distance ourselves from them. We need them on our side because they can help us. Would you see this land ravaged by war when we have it in our power to prevent it?"

"You know that's not it, Arthur. I don't trust them—what possible reason can Wulflaf have for helping us? It can't be out of the goodness of his heart, for I don't think he has one. What reason has he given us to trust him?"

"How about saving my life, Gawain?" Everyone turned to see Lancelot standing in the doorway with a pained expression. "Wouldn't you say that is reason enough?"

Gawain sighed, shaking his head ruefully, but didn't speak.

"Gawain, I'm not saying we should simply give him the keys to the city, so to speak, but I don't think he's entirely untrustworthy," Lancelot continued, as he took his seat with only a slight grimace to hint at the pain he was in. "I think we should give him a chance. See if he can bring about this peace you all speak of."

The knights around the table became silent once more as everyone contemplated the wisdom of trusting the Saxon invaders. For a long moment, no one spoke, and Arthur had a feeling that more of them agreed with Gawain than with Lancelot. But the door opened then, and there was no more time for discussion as Wulflaf walked in followed by six Saxons, all but one of them gazing around with deep suspicion. The latter simply looked curious, and with a shrug pushed past the others and came to the table with a carefree manner. Reaching into a bowl near him, he grabbed an apple and started eating as he took a seat, glancing back at the others as if to say, _What are you waiting for?_ Wulflaf looked at him for a long moment before leading the others to the table. No one spoke, and glares were exchanged on both sides.

"Perhaps introductions are in order, Wulflaf—could you introduce your men?" Wulflaf considered introductions a waste of time, but since Arthur thought it a matter of importance, he did not protest.

"Halig, Lufian, Rathelm, Leofric, Gar, Drefan." Each of the men nodded as Wulflaf named them, with the last one waving his apple in greeting before he returned to gazing around the room with a curious expression.

"I think you've already met some of my men, Wulflaf, but your men have not," Arthur began, but Wulflaf interrupted.

"It is not important. If we need to know them by name, let it be done later. Let us waste no more time here, Artair," Wulflaf said abruptly. "I have brought these men with me so that we may discuss a peace between our peoples."

"Do you offer an alliance then?" Arthur asked.

"Alliance? No. But I do offer you a chance at peace."

"Why do we offer peace!" One of the Saxons suddenly yelled, pounding his fist on the table. "We are Saxon—we do not negotiate, and we do not make peace with our enemies! You would bring us to our knees, Wulflaf!"

Wulflaf came to his feet, grabbing the offending Saxon by the neck and jerking him forward.

"I will allow you to question me only once, Leofric, before I lose my patience with you. Do not question me again. Now sit down and hold your tongue before I cut it out." With that, he shoved Leofric back into his seat before he calmly took his own seat once more, gazing dispassionately at Arthur.

"Though I disagree with the manner in which he voiced it, your man brings up a good question," Aldric voiced. "What do you gain from offering us peace?"

"He keeps a lot more of his people alive," Bors said loudly. "We slaughtered a lot of them yesterday—maybe he couldn't afford to lose more." Leofric's hands clenched angrily at Bors' words, but he kept his silence, not wanting to anger Wulflaf.

"I slaughtered many of them myself, Sarmatian—your reasoning is faulty," Wulflaf countered, quirking an eyebrow sardonically.

"So then, for what reason do you desire peace?" Gawain asked, gazing suspiciously at the Saxon leader.

"We have more pressing matters to attend to than fighting a senseless war. We have no need for more territory. I merely look to the needs of our own lands rather than fight for lands that will do us no good."

"Why do I get the feeling that that's not all there is to it?" Gawain kept his eyes on Wulflaf, his normally good-natured temperament absent as he questioned Wulflaf's answer.

Before Wulflaf could answer, the door burst open and Dayn stormed in, his face a mask of dark rage as he scanned the group who sat around the table. Orainne hurried in after him, looking frantic as she grabbed onto his arm and vainly tried to drag him outside.

"Dayn, stop!" she cried, pulling at him with all of her strength, but to no avail.

"No! They took you into the middle of an enemy camp, and they meant to keep it from me—think you I will let that stand?" The two of them argued in the Celtic tongue, leaving everyone else in the room completely oblivious to what they were saying. The younger Saxon who was starting on a second apple watched with interest as the two continued to bicker, while the other Saxons sat back with something akin to annoyance at the interruption. Arthur buried his face in his hands wearily before he heaved a sigh and came to his feet.

"Dayn." When Dayn didn't appear to notice, Arthur raised his voice sternly. "Dayn!" Dayn turned to look at him with an irritated expression, aggravated that Arthur had interrupted them.

"If we could save the marital disputes for later, Dayn, we're trying to conduct a meeting here," Lancelot said shortly.

"Don't start with me, Lance!" Dayn said angrily, turning a wrathful gaze on Lancelot.

"Your problems can wait, Dayn. This is more important than whatever issues you may think you have." The argument would have continued, but Dayn's attention shifted away from Lancelot when Orainne walked over to Arthur with a plaintive expression.

"I am sorry, Arthur," she said slowly, speaking carefully so as to be understood. "Dayn is angry. Last night," she finished, looking closely at Arthur to ensure that he understood.

"It's alright, Orainne. He has a right to be angry," Arthur told her with a comforting pat on the shoulder. She looked weary, and Arthur led her to the table to sit down as Dayn looked on.

"So you admit it—you took her last night, and you meant to keep it from me." Arthur led Orainne to the empty chair between Drefan and Galahad, hoping that Orainne's presence might serve as a buffer between the two groups. Unlike everyone else in the room, Orainne could in no way be perceived as threatening, and one look at her tended to bring out the protective instincts in most males. She gave Arthur a grateful smile before she sat down with a sigh of relief. Beside her, Drefan glanced down at his apple before grabbing another and offering it to her with raised eyebrows. With a smile, she accepted the apple and bit into it as the others, Saxon and Sarmatian alike, looked on.

"Dayn, I will speak with you on the matter after our business with the Saxons is concluded," Arthur said softly, and for once, Dayn didn't argue. He took his customary seat at the table and took up a mug of ale that Dagonet passed to him. Orainne leaned forward in her chair, and took the ale that had been placed before Galahad and passed it to Drefan with a questioning look.

"Have some?" she asked holding it up before him.

"Yes," the Saxon replied, nodding. Orainne took the empty cup that had been placed before him and filled it with ale before holding it out to him. He accepted and took a large swallow of it before passing it to Leofric.

Arthur met Wulflaf's eyes, and Wulflaf nodded almost imperceptibly. Arthur returned the nod, and sat back with satisfaction. _Perhaps peace was possible after all._

* * *

Awareness came slowly to Offa, and with it, the sure knowledge that he was being watched. _It couldn't be his sister, for he had sent her to rest in a room provided for her by Artair's people. So who else would it be?_ His eyes shot open, and he grabbed for his sword only to find that it was not there. 

"If you're looking for your sword, it's not there." Offa looked up to see a small girl with a cheerful smile standing at the foot of the bed leaning against the bed post, staring down at him.

"And where is it, then?" he asked her slowly, eyeing her suspiciously. _What is a small child doing here, and why does she speak to me?_

"You know, that's a good question. I think it's in the armory, but I'm not sure. You came in during the night, and I was sleeping in my bed, so I didn't see." Offa didn't answer, and the little girl took that as an invitation to continue. "My name is Eight, but everyone calls me Hummingbird. What's your name?"

"Offa," he told her, suddenly amused by friendly little girl whose name was a number.

"Offa, why do you wear animals?" she asked, pointing to the fur cloak which covered him at the waist.

"It is cold where I am from. The fur keeps me warm." Before she could question him further, a young boy ran in, rushing towards them with his eyes glowing in excitement.

"I found you, Hummingbird!" Hummingbird dodged him playfully, crawling under the bed to appear on the other side.

"You still have to catch me," she taunted with a grin. As Offa watched, the boy lunged around the end of the bed, just managing to tag her. She laughed and the boy leaned against the bed with a smile.

"I came in here to hide, cause me and Lucan were playing hide-n-seek," she told Offa seriously.

"Yes, I remember the game well," Offa replied with a weak smile. Lucan turned, noticing Offa for the first time.

"Hummingbird, what are you doing? He's a Saxon!" Lucan whispered loudly, turning frightened eyes towards Hummingbird.

"What's a Saxon?"

"Saxons kill us, Hummingbird! They almost killed Dagonet, and they killed Cei. They're the ones who were fighting the Woads and the knights yesterday."

"You didn't kill Cei, did you?" Hummingbird asked Offa with questioning eyes.

"I know of no one called Cei. But I do not think it was I who killed him, for I have not fought any of your people in battle," Offa told her softly.

Hummingbird turned back to Lucan with a triumphant gaze, giving him a rather haughty smile. "See, Lucan, he didn't do anything. Besides, Arthur wouldn't have let him come through the wall if he was going to hurt us." Lucan shook his head, staring fearfully at Offa before running outside.

"I had better go after him," Hummingbird said apologetically. As she turned to leave, a fierce looking Saxon stepped in, holding a sword in his hands as he gazed down at the little girl. Hummingbird stared up at him, closely observing him for a moment before turning back to Offa excitedly. "Look, Offa, he's brought your sword," she said happily as she hurried to his side.

"How do you know it is mine?" he asked her weakly, knowing very well that it was, but wanting to know how the small girl knew.

"Cause he already has one, there in the sheath on his back," she pointed out smartly.

"You are very observant, little one," the newcomer said in a halting voice.

"I don't know what that means, but I heard Uncle Dag say that about Tristan, so I guess it's a good thing."

"It is that," the Saxon answered. "But now, you should go. Offa needs rest."

"Alright," Hummingbird said cheerfully. "Goodbye, Offa!" The two Saxons watched her skip outside happily, and Offa smiled.

"Gar, if peace is what we seek, she makes it worth pursuing." Gar nodded as he placed Offa's sword by the bed.

"Peace is a strange concept for us, Offa. War is in our blood."

"Perhaps, but maybe it is time to change things. Wulflaf's plans for peace with these people may be the start of a new path for our people."

"Or he could destroy us all. I do not understand him. His father was the greatest war-chief our people have seen in centuries, and Wulflaf appears to be ready to destroy all that Cerdic achieved."

"Our future is uncertain, Gar, but Wulflaf does not strike me as a man who does things without good reason."

"That remains to be seen, doesn't it?" Gar asked.

"The meeting this morning—it went well?" Offa asked, changing the subject.

"No one was killed if that's what you're asking," Gar said seriously.

"I suppose that's as much as we can hope for right now. Do you think the chances for peace with the Britons are good?"

"If Leofric does not cause problems, then perhaps the fighting will end." Gar sounded a bit disappointed at the prospect, but Offa knew that he would not interfere. _But Leofric could very well be trouble. _

"Watch Leofric, Gar. I worry that he does not fear Wulflaf enough to obey him."

"If Wulflaf kills him, there could be war with Leofric's tribe. Their obedience to Wulflaf is already unstable, and Leofric's death could be the breaking point. No one would mourn his death, I am certain, but it is a matter of pride. Wulflaf must tread carefully, or he will cease to have control over the tribes his father held."

"I think Wulflaf well understands the tenuous position he is in. We must hope that he has the strength to hold the tribes, or our chances of returning home are slim. These people will not surrender without sending many of our warriors to Valhalla in the process. We lost many people in the battle yesterday, I have heard."

"Simple luck. Without the Sarmatians' aid and their Roman commander's planning, they would have fallen easily. They would not be so lucky if we fought them again," Gar said arrogantly.

"You underestimate them. You must understand, Gar, that a people who are left with no option but to fight will do so fiercely, as an animal cornered. That gives them an edge that we as conquerors do not have. Do not think them so weak that they would not take as many of our warriors into death with them as they could."

"Offa, you think too much. It is not good for a warrior to be concerned with such things. It is our duty to fight and kill when we are ordered to, and trying to understand the enemy is useless." Offa shook his head as Gar left, knowing that Gar was a warrior first and foremost, and to him, fighting was the only thing that mattered. And though Gar didn't realize it, Offa knew that there was much more to it than that. He could only hope that Wulflaf would not be so dismissive, for it took a cunning leader to examine the enemy's strengths as well as their weaknesses in determining a course of action. _Let us hope Wulflaf is as cunning as I believe him to be, or we may _all_ suffer for it._

* * *

A/N: I realize I haven't given a lot of description as far as the other Saxons are concerned, but I do plan to flesh them out a bit in an upcoming chapter. As Wulflaf thought, it was hardly the time for detailed descriptions—lol! Anyways, I'm going to pull in more detail about them later, but in the long run, the only characters that will be really important are Wulf, Offa, Leofric and possibly Drefan. I include Drefan simply for comic relief purposes. The others will most likely be like the extra Sarmatians I added—mostly filler characters. Anyways, let me know what you think! 

**ModestySparrow9**: I hope the Tristan scene was worth the wait…I wasn't sure how to fit any Tristan scenes in, but I finally ended up with this one, and actually liked it. Sorry you had to wait so long for it…things got busy, you know how it is. Anyways, thanks for reviewing for me!

**chiefhow**: Yeah, I don't figure a little thing like a chest injury can keep Lance down—glad you enjoyed. I'm also glad that you're liking Wulf—I'm working diligently to keep the mysterious aspect in him as long as I can…I'm definitely drawing it out for as long as possible before I reveal anything substantial about him.

**MonDieu666:** Hey, thanks for the compliments. I'm still not certain if this story will be as good as its predecessor, but I'm trying. It's harder with this one, I think, because I added more characters in addition to the others I've added, and I'm finding it hard to include everybody. I think Tristan is sort of getting the shaft in this one, because I just can't fit him in like I could with "Peril." Oh well...thanks for reviewing for me!

**Camreyn**: I'm sorry that Caderyn didn't make it in to this chapter, but I have definite plans for him in an upcoming chapter, so don't think I've ruled him out. I really think you'll like the direction I take him in, so just hang in there. As you are my loyal Caderyn Fan Club member, I aim to please, so expect him in the next chapter.

**KAfan**: Well, Orainne got a bigger part in this chapter than I had originally planned for, so you lucked up with that wish of yours. As I am rather partial to her and Dayn, they'll always show up in some way in every chapter. Thanks for the compliments, and for reviewing for me!

**dagg**: I'm so sorry for making you wait so long! I try to keep up with my fics, and I feel really bad about taking so long. If you check my URL from time to time, though, I generally post updates about my progress, so it might give you an idea of how long I'm going to be with the next update. I'm going to do better, though, I promise!

**dmitchell1974**: I'm really honored that this is one of your favorite stories—you're really good for the ego, you know. So sorry that you've been checking daily for updates only to be disappointed when there isn't one…as I told dagg above, you can check my URL to see how far I've gotten with my fics…Anyways, I hope that you were pleased to see that I'd finally updated this story—I've been working hard on it all week, because your review was the last one I got, and it really motivated me to get moving on this one. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4: Webs of Tangled Emotion

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 4—Webs of Tangled Emotion

"Are you a Saxon?" Wulf looked up from where he was cleaning and sharpening his weapons to see a little girl smiling at him, a halo of sunlight surrounding her.

"Yes." He pointedly ignored her after answering the question, hoping that she would leave, but it was fairly obvious that she wasn't going to take the hint.

"I like your sword," she said, reaching out a finger to touch the shiny blade. He pulled it out of her reach and narrowed his gaze on her, but she wasn't at all fazed by his steely demeanor. "I wish I had a sword, but Papa says no. He says I hafta wait until I'm bigger. I told him, 'I'm already bigger,' but he says not enough. So I hafta wait longer. Sometimes, Papa isn't any fun at all," she said in a pout. But she suddenly brightened and gave him a winsome smile. "Can I touch yours? I'll be extra careful, I swear it!" she exclaimed earnestly.

_Perhaps if I let her, she will be satisfied and leave me in peace. _With that thought in mind, Wulf scowled and held the sword out, the blade laid flat over his forearm. With a reverent look, she ran her small fingers down the broad side of the blade, careful not to touch the razor sharp edge.

"Did you get that cut in the battle?" she asked, pointing to a gash running the gamut of his forearm. He glanced down, examining the cut unconcernedly before he shrugged indifferently.

"Perhaps."

"Oh. Yours looks better than mine. I got this scrape here on my knee in the battle, because I fell down," she explained, baring her knee to show him the scrape.

"What was a mere child such as yourself doing on the battlefield? I find it strange that your father will not permit you to learn the skills of a blade, but will allow you to attend a battle."

"Well, it was sort of an accident, really. I wasn't supposed to be there, but I got lost and went the wrong way. Then I was in the middle of the battle, and I didn't know where to go." Wulflaf nodded absentmindedly as the little girl tried to explain, his attention focused more on his sword then on her words. "My name's Eight, but everyone calls me Hummingbird," she told him happily.

"What does this mean—hummingbird?" he asked curiously, raising his head to look at her. He'd never heard of such a bird before, and he wondered at the oddness of it.

"Well, it's a little bird that flies really fast from place to place. Papa says that everyone calls me Hummingbird because I never stay in one place for very long."

"Ah. I know of no such bird."

"That's alright. You didn't tell me your name," she pointed out.

"Wulflaf."

"That sounds like wolf. Were you named after a wolf, the way I was for a hummingbird?"

"No."

Much to Wulflaf's annoyance, Hummingbird slid onto the bench beside him, flashing him a happy smile before fixing her gaze on the sword in his hands. Silence fell and Wulflaf was just beginning to relax when a slight movement caught his eye. He looked up to see Hummingbird holding one of his daggers, and his eyes narrowed.

"This is a pretty dagger. I wish I had a dagger. I'll clean it for you," she said resolutely. But as he opened his mouth to object, something stayed him, some measure of amusement as he watched her lift a corner of her dress and start shining the dagger with a look of intense concentration on her face.

A hint of a smile crossed his face before he resumed his usual stoic expression. Peaceful silence resumed, and Wulf settled back into the habitual practice of caring for his weapons. Time passed, and Wulflaf relished the sound of the steel as he sharpened each weapon. Hummingbird shined each dagger before passing them to Wulflaf to be sharpened, and she was shining the last one when a heavy stride interrupted the silence as someone stalked toward them.

"Wulflaf, I would have a word with you," Leofric snarled angrily, coming over to stand over Wulflaf and Hummingbird, his hands clenched into fists as he stared down at them.

"You're not being very polite—you interrupted, and that was rude," Hummingbird told the angry Saxon, not deigning to lift her head from her task.

"Shut up, girl," Leofric countered, and at that, both Wulflaf and Hummingbird looked up at him.

"I don't like him," Hummingbird whispered to Wulflaf with a look of disdain.

"Nor do I," he told her as his cold eyes bored into Leofric's with a chilling look.

"We don't like you," Hummingbird told Leofric matter-of-factly. "We think you should leave."

"You bring our people to their knees, and all the while you dawdle with this child," Leofric bit out, ignoring the little girl.

"How I choose to lead our people is nothing you need concern yourself with, Leofric," Wulflaf said, turning his gaze back to the sword in his hands as Hummingbird looked on with curiosity.

"I will die before I see the fate of our people fall prey to the leadership of one such as you," Leofric said pulling his sword from its sheath.

"Then you'll die," Wulflaf said coldly, coming to his feet. Leofric's eyes shifted toward Hummingbird, and Wulflaf knew without a doubt that Leofric would try to use the child against him. He stepped in front of her, standing between her and Leofric, his sword raised menacingly.

"We both know you won't kill me, Wulflaf," Leofric said with a sneer. "If you did, you would bring the wrath of my tribe upon you, and it would mean war. You can't afford to kill me."

"Perhaps not. But that doesn't mean I won't." Uncertainty filled Leofric's eyes as he saw the truth in Wulflaf's gaze, and he began to back away from the menace he saw on Wulflaf's face.

"You can't!" Leofric's voice held an edge of panic as Wulflaf began to stalk forward with a look that promised death.

"I warned you, Leofric, never to question me. But here you are again, and I am left with something of a quandary. Should I do as my father would have and kill you now, or should I give you a chance to redeem yourself? Tell me, Leofric, what would you do?"

"I should not have questioned you," Leofric murmured, going down on one knee, his eyes lowered submissively. "Forgive me, my lord," he said, with only a trace of the bitterness he felt at being subservient to the man who stood before him.

"What do you think, _fea bridd_?" Wulflaf asked, turning his head slightly towards Hummingbird without taking his eyes off Leofric. She looked up quizzically, her head cocked almost comically. "Should I kill him, or let him go this time?"

"Well…he's not very nice, but I guess we can let him go this time," she said thoughtfully.

"Remember this moment, Leofric, for this child grants you the mercy that you would not find at my hands. You will find that I am not so merciful. Do not tempt me again." Leofric nodded quickly, and stood up, practically tripping over himself in his haste to get away from Wulflaf.

Wulflaf watched him go with narrowed eyes, having a suspicious feeling that he was going to regret his leniency. When Leofric was out of sight, he slowly resumed his place on the bench beside Hummingbird. She looked up at him with a smile before she looked back down at the dagger in her hands.

"My mama says it's always better to be nice," she told him with a nod. She stood, and placed his dagger reverently on the bench beside him, and brushed off her already grass-stained dress before looking up at him with a smile. "I better go. Mama will worry if I'm not back soon. Thank you for letting me hold your daggers, Wulflaf." She reached up and kissed his cheek before running off as quickly as she had appeared.

"Goodbye, _fea bridd_," he murmured as he watched her go.

"You should have killed him." Wulflaf turned at the sound of the voice, and saw a Woad woman walking towards him, a mysterious expression on her face.

"You tell me nothing that I do not already know."

"Then why did you let him live?" she asked, coming to stand in front of him.

"It served my purposes to let him go. I shall deal with him later."

"It was the little girl, wasn't it? That's why you couldn't kill him now," she argued.

"I care not if the child watches me gut him. As I told you, I did precisely what I thought best." She smiled knowingly at him, but ceased to argue, having a feeling that he would continue to insist on his reasoning.

"I have long wondered why men deny emotional ties," Caireach said as she sat down in Hummingbird's vacated spot on the bench. She leaned back against the wall behind them, eyeing him speculatively. He sat down once more and gave her an indifferent look.

"Because emotional ties will only get you hurt or killed. It is best not to have them."

"But you can't cut yourself off from everyone."

"Yes, I can," he countered, staring coldly at her before sliding his sword back into its sheath. She was silent for a moment, watching as he gathered his weapons, carefully returning them to their proper places on his person before she spoke once more.

"I am Caireach."

"Why do you tell me this?"

"Because you intrigue me. I wish to know more of you, and to do that, I believe it prudent that you know who I am."

"Your interest is best turned to other things. I have no need for a relationship with you."

"Ah, I see. I would be an 'emotional tie,' yes?"

"Something like that."

"Perhaps I can change your mind," she said with a coy smile. She stood before he could comment, and walked away, leaving him to frown at her departing figure. While he could admire her beauty, he meant what he'd said. _I will not be brought to my knees by feelings for a woman,_ he vowed. _Never again._

* * *

Lancelot rubbed lightly at the wound on his chest, trying to ease the ache that had settled there, wondering again how he could have been caught so unaware by the Saxon who'd wounded him. Looking out over the wall at the numerous campfires that glowed from the Saxon army, he couldn't help but wonder what he was still doing here. _For as long as I can remember, I have wanted nothing more than to return to Sarmatia. But now that I have that chance, I find myself reluctant to leave. My heart is torn—do I stay or do I go? _He fingered Cei's medallion, running the pads of his fingertips over the smooth stone that hung around his neck. 

"I know what your choice would be, my friend," he whispered, his words carried away by the wind that pulled at him. Bracing his arms on the stone wall, he bowed his head, weary in both body and spirit.

"Are you ill, knight?"

He raised his head at the feminine voice, subconsciously affixing his customary grin in place as he turned to face her.

"I've never been better," he told her, looking her up and down and liking what he saw. It was one of the Woads that had been with Orainne—Muireann, he recalled. He'd always had a knack for names, especially of the female variety. Her eyes searched his face, and he became immensely uncomfortable by the intensity of her gaze. She stepped closer to him and he stared down at her suspiciously.

"Why do you stare at me so?"

"Something troubles you," she said softly.

"And what makes you say that?" he asked with a carefree smile.

"Your eyes hold much sadness, knight of Arthur. One only has to look to see it." He turned away at her words, his hands clenching into fists as her words cut into him.

"It's none of your concern," he said angrily, turning his back to her.

"You hide your sorrow behind a clever smile, but it will ever remain a part of you. It never goes away, but perhaps if you share it, it will lessen your grief." His eyes narrowed as she looked up at him, her eyes seeming to stare straight through him.

"Sorrow makes a man weak," he murmured, "and I have no need of it, or your help." He pushed past her, hiding a grimace at the pain the sudden movement caused. Muireann watched him go, her eyes sad as she watched a man who was hurting try to hold himself together.

* * *

Lancelot stood with Dayn in the courtyard across from Arthur's quarters, both of them waiting for their commander, but for entirely different reasons. Close by, Orainne and Hummingbird sat on the ground surrounded by several of Wulflaf's men. Orainne was showing them the dice game that Caderyn had taught her, and they paid close attention to Hummingbird's added instruction. Dayn kept a close eye on the pair, remaining vigilant in the event that one of the Saxons turned on them. Lancelot grinned as he saw Dayn's eyes narrow on the young Saxon that Orainne had befriended. Drefan was smiling at her, his eyes alight with joy as he watched her intently. 

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Dayn."

"What?" Dayn turned, startled by Lancelot's intrusion into his thoughts.

"You worry perhaps that the Saxon will turn her head, but you worry needlessly. That girl is hopelessly besotted with you. Why that is, I'll never know, but the fact remains nevertheless."

"I don't trust these Saxons. We have only the word of one man that there is peace between us, and we know nothing about that man except that he slew his own brother to save your hide."

"Yes, well, that is enough to satisfy me. I trust him."

"Well then you're a fool."

"We shall see who is the fool," Lancelot said confidently, turning away to watch the Saxons with Orainne and Hummingbird.

Hummingbird knelt beside Orainne, giggling in childish glee as Drefan said something that amused her. Gar looked annoyed that he was losing, but the little girl smiled up at him, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically.

"That's alright, Gar. You'll do better next time. I'm sure of it!"

"Yes, Gar. You simply fail to pay attention," Drefan said, giving the other warrior a bit of friendly advice.

"We should play a different game. This one is not so good," Gar said arrogantly, lifting his chin defiantly.

"I know a game!" Hummingbird said with excitement. "We can play hide-and-seek!"

"I think not, little one. I shall show you a better game," Gar said. He rose and pulled his sword, and Dayn drew up in alarm, starting forward while his hand reached for his own sword.

"Hold, Dayn. He means no harm," Lancelot said, drawing him back. Sure enough, Gar drove the point of the sword into the ground before going to the bag he'd left sitting nearby. He pulled out a handful of iron rings and stepped back from the sword, gauging the distance with a discerning eye. Finally satisfied, he tossed the ring, watching with satisfaction as the ring fell neatly around the hilt of the sword. Turning, he handed a ring to Hummingbird and motioned for her to try. She stepped forward with a determined glint in her eyes, and eyed the sword.

She threw the ring with a hopeful look, her shoulders slumping dejectedly as the ring fell short of the hilt.

"You will learn in time," Gar told her kindly, seeing the disappointment in the little girl's face.

"Yeah, maybe. I don't like to wait. How about a bet?"

"A bet?" Gar asked, intrigued in spite of himself.

"Yeah. I bet that I can get this ring onto that sword in one try." Gar grinned, knowing that the child's chances were so slim as to be virtually nothing.

"And what do I get if I win?" he asked with a smile, curious to see what the small girl considered worthy of betting.

"If you win, I'll give you all my moneys. But if I win, you have to give me one of those," she said, pointing to the daggers at his waist. She had been admiring them for some time, and Gar could see that she wanted one badly.

"Very well," he replied, accepting the bet as he handed her the ring and stepped back. With a mischievous grin, she took the ring and simply walked up to the sword, dropping it over the hilt and turning back to him, her hand held out expectantly.

"I win," she said matter-of-factly.

"I think not. You did not play by the rules."

"You didn't say I had to," she pointed out.

"She's right, Gar," Drefan said, clearing his throat apologetically. "You failed to establish the rules when you made the bet. She's a cunning one," he said, giving her an admiring look. Gar scowled, but conceded the point as he handed Hummingbird one of his daggers with a rueful shake of his head.

"Do you want to play again?" Hummingbird asked with a innocent smile. The Saxons laughed as Gar shook his head.

"Little bird, I do not think Gar will be so quick to play such games with you in the future," Drefan told her with a laugh.

"I wasn't very nice, was I?" she said with a frown, beginning to feel guilty at tricking Gar.

"Fear not, _fea bridd_. You earned that dagger through your cunning. It is something we Saxons admire. You did well," the one called Halig told her. She beamed up at the others and cradled the dagger in her hands, careful not to cut herself.

As Dayn watched, one of the Saxons—the silent one—pulled his own dagger out, sheath and all. He stuck the dagger into his belt and handed the empty sheath to her. Her face lit up happily and she slid the dagger into it with a blissful smile.

"Thank you, Rathelm," she said, hugging the Saxon around the waist as best she could before she ran off, bidding them goodbye over her shoulder. "I have to go show Lucan!" she yelled as they watched her departure.

Suddenly, Arthur's door opened and Arthur stepped out, diverting Dayn's attention. Dayn's eyes narrowed on his commander, and anger welled up inside him. _Now Arthur will answer to me for putting Orainne in danger. _Lancelot too, wished to speak to Arthur, but he frowned as Guenevere suddenly stepped from Arthur's room as well. With a sneer of disgust, he turned and walked back the way he'd come, no longer wishing to speak with his best friend. Dayn on the other hand, very much wished to speak to Arthur, and he started forward only to pause, hesitant to leave Orainne alone with the Saxons.

Drefan's eyes met Dayn's and he came to his feet beside Orainne.

"You have nothing to fear, warrior of Artair. She will not be harmed." As much as Dayn loathed to admit it, he sensed that the Saxon spoke truthfully.

"I take a great risk trusting you with my woman. Do not fail me," Dayn told him, his eyes promising retaliation if Orainne was harmed in any way.

"I give you my word that she is safe." Dayn nodded and turned, striding towards Arthur resolutely. Orainne watched him go, smiling to herself at the thought of her lover's restraint. It wasn't often that Dayn was so trusting of others, and for him to have trusted Drefan was a momentous occasion indeed.

"I will tell Merlin that you will speak to him on the morrow. He is eager for news of the peace you forge," Guenevere was saying as they stepped outside into the sunlight.

"Yes, it's important that he be present for the negotiations for peace. As the leader for your people, he should be here. We need to show a united front, Guenevere." Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see Lancelot moving off in the distance and Dayn turning to face the doorway where Arthur and Guenevere stood.

Arthur sighed as he watched Dayn coming towards him, knowing that Dayn's temper was likely to erupt.

"Arthur, what is it?" Guenevere asked, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I must speak with Dayn. Perhaps it would be better if you joined Orainne while I did."

"With the Saxons?" she asked, sounding completely appalled at the suggestion. "No, I think not. I shall go elsewhere, away from _them_." She walked away, and Arthur resisted the urge to sigh again. _Things have never been easy before; I don't know why I expected them to be so now. It seems I will have to deal with anger and hatred on all sides._ This would be no easy peace to achieve, not with the animosity between Woad and Saxon, Sarmatian and Woad, and Sarmatian and Saxon. _No, it will not be easy at all._

"Arthur, I would speak with you now, as you promised," Dayn said angrily, staring Arthur angrily in the eye as he confronted him, bringing Arthur's attention back to the matter at hand.

"Yes, Dayn, somehow I had a feeling you would be here."

"Did you think I would overlook such an offense! You put my woman and child in danger, and thought nothing of it!"

"Dayn, I didn't do so without—wait, what?"

"Orainne carries my child within her, and you put them both at risk!" Dayn yelled, hammering his fist against the doorframe to make his point.

"Dayn, I'm sorry, I didn't know. You are right to be angry. I made the decision to fetch her because we needed a healer when none were available. But it was necessary, and I did everything in my power to ensure her safety."

"Arthur," Dayn said, lowering his voice to a almost a whisper, "if anything happened to her, I couldn't bear it," Dayn confessed, trying in his own way to explain his anger. "I know you don't care much for her, seeing as she's a Woad, but she's my heart, Arthur." Arthur nodded, squeezing Dayn's shoulder comfortingly.

"I understand, Dayn. Know this—she will be protected. We will keep her safe."

"That is all that I ask of you, Arthur." The solemn moment was broken suddenly when Dayn grinned and looked up at him. "You know, Arthur, if you play your cards right, I might see fit to let you be the babe's uncle," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Dayn, you're still the same scamp you were when you first came here," Arthur said with a laugh. "Go on, get out of here." With a laugh of his own, Dayn left, and Arthur shook his head, amazed at how some things never changed.

* * *

Lancelot made his way to the tavern where he knew most of the others were more than likely already gathered. He pushed open the door and plunged into the darkness of the interior, making his way to the table in the back where the Sarmatians were drinking. 

"Wondered when you were going to show up," Bors said with a grin. Lancelot returned the smile, and he felt his heart lighten as he joined his friends, his brothers. _The only thing that could make this better is a pretty wench to join me. _As if conjured by his thoughts, a maid caught his eye, giving him a questioning look. He gave her a grin and she began to make her way over to him.

"Lancelot, before you get involved with her, there's something we need to talk about," Gawain said, looking around the table at each of the Sarmatians.

"Look, Gawain, if this is about the money I owe you, I told you before, I'm going to pay you back," he said in a cajoling voice.

"No, Lancelot, this is something else, something that concerns all of us." Finally noticing the serious look on Gawain's face, Lancelot sobered, having a sinking feeling that things were about to sour once more. The maid reached him, sliding onto his lap, but he impatiently moved her aside.

"Not now. Come back later." With an affronted look, she stalked away, but Lancelot paid her no mind as he turned his attention fully on Gawain.

"With all the trouble, no one has wanted to speak of what the future may hold for us. But we can't put it off any longer. We need to decide whether we're going home or staying," Gawain said softly. For a long moment, no one spoke, but then Aldric cleared his throat.

"You all know that I'm the oldest here, and I've made no secret of wanting to go home. For me, that time has come. Anyone who wishes to come along is welcome to."

"I can't leave now," Gawain said quietly. "Not with things as they are. Without us, Arthur has no one but the Woads to depend on if the Saxons turn on us. Dayn, I know you consider them your people now, but honestly, can they really be trusted to follow Arthur's lead?"

"As long as Merlin leads them, they'll do as he says," Dayn replied. "But if something were to happen to him, I just don't know."

"You may be right, Gawain, but I'm with Aldric," Galahad said, glancing down at his hands wrapped around his cup of ale.

"Galahad," Gawain began, but Galahad shook his head, cutting him off.

"I'm sorry, Gawain, but I haven't changed my mind. I want to go home to Sarmatia. I can't stay here any longer." He smiled sadly at Gawain before downing the rest of his ale.

"Dayn? Will you be coming with us?" Aldric asked, speaking up when Gawain remained silent.

"As if I could go even if I wanted to—you forget, I never got my pardon from the Romans. As far as they're concerned, I'm a fugitive."

"We can get you safely through the Roman Empire, Dayn, if you want to go with us."

"No, Aldric. My place is here, with my woman. There's nothing for me in Sarmatia, not anymore."

"Bors, what about you?" Galahad asked. "Are you going to take Vanora and the children home to Sarmatia?"

"Boy, are you daft? You think I'm going to put all my little bastards on a ship and take 'em on a journey across the most treacherous terrain in the known world? No, I'm going to stay right here," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "This is home for us now, and these lands are all my little ones know. We're staying."

"Dagonet?" Gawain asked.

"If Bors stays, then my place is here as well. Besides, everyone I knew in Sarmatia is dead and gone."

"And you, Tristan?"

"I will stay," the scout answered.

"Has anyone spoken with Caderyn?" Lancelot asked.

"Caderyn doesn't have any family back home—his parents died when he was small. He said he would rather stay with us," Gawain said.

"That just leaves you, Lance. Are you staying or are you going?" Aldric asked. Lancelot's throat tightened, and his jaw clenched tightly.

"I don't know," he said softly, staring down into his cup glumly.

"We'll be leaving two days hence. You'll need to let us know before then." Lancelot gave a curt nod, and stood to leave, no longer in the mood for revelry. It felt as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and in his heart, he wondered if things would ever be the same again.

* * *

A/N: In case anyone was wondering, _fea bridd _means "little bird" in Old English. Whether it's grammatically correct, I don't know, but I'm going with it. Anyways, please read and review! 

**N e k o: **I'm glad you like the story so far—thanks for the compliment! Hope you'll review again for me!

**Dagg:** How did your finals go? I tried to get this chapter up faster than the last, and I think I did a pretty good job—what do you think? Yeah, Hummingbird is worming her way into everyone's hearts, isn't she? I can't resist putting her in almost every chapter, because she's just so cute. Anyways, thanks for the review!

**chiefhow:** Glad you liked Hummingbird's scene—what did you think of her scenes in this one? I have a feeling that before everything is said and done, I'll end up having to write a story for her as well. I'm trying to deepen the sense of mystery surrounding Wulflaf…there are several things going on with him that I don't want to reveal too soon. Anyways, thanks for the review and the compliment on my last chapter!

**Camreyn:** Thanks for reading over this beforehand—as always, I appreciate it! A few of the corrections you made, I didn't change on my story because I liked the sound of the wording better, but otherwise, I took your advice. Thanks! Also, thanks for the congratulations on graduation. To answer your question, Sæthryth doesn't know Wulflaf. Offa and Wulflaf don't know each other all that well—the reason Wulf saved Offa is because he knew Offa would be a good ally. So, since they don't know each other all that well, there's no reason she _would_ know Wulflaf. Does that make sense? Wulf doesn't hate Geoff—he really feels nothing but disdain for him because Geoffrey is weak. Gar isn't Offa's replacement, but he's not a leader himself. Like Offa, he's the son of a tribal leader. I guess Gar could be likened to Tristan, only he's more outspoken than Tristan. As far as the introduction scene, Wulflaf wasn't trying to be insulting—he was just being less than tactful. He's not a patient man, is he? Anyways, I hope I addressed everything—thanks for sending me such great reviews.

**KAfan:** I hope you were able to sort out all the Saxons—sorry for the confusion. I'm trying to flesh some of them out a little more, but it's hard because Wulflaf is the character that I'm working with, so more of the story revolves around him. He's a loner, so it's not often that I can fit the others into scenes with him. That's where Hummingbird comes in. Heehee! Thanks for reviewing for me!

**ModestySparrow9:** Sorry that I made you wait so long for the update—I'm working as quick as possible. My LOTR story will be updated next—I'll start that soon. Anyways, hope you liked this chapter as well. Let me know what you think!

**Just a fan:** I really enjoyed reading your review, and your use of "holy crudsicle" was really amusing—thanks! I'm glad you like the story. Unfortunately, due to the massive amount of subplots that I'm going to have going in this story, Niamh and Tristan won't have that many scenes—it's just too hard to fit them into the flow of the story right now because everything is beginning to revolve around Wulflaf. But expect Dayn and Orainne to still get scenes, and new romances will begin…you might already have a hint of it after reading this chapter. Anyways, thanks so much for the review and the compliments!

**dmitchell1974:** The new job is going well—thanks for asking. It's exhausting—I work with kids ages 3-6, and they pretty much wear me out, but they're good kids and it's fun. I have to work on my Lord of the Rings story first, but after that chapter is finished, I'll work on "Unbreakable Bond." Hopefully, you won't have to wait too long for it. I started writing that next chapter today actually while my summer camp kids were napping, so I've at least gotten a start on it. Anyways, thanks for reviewing—I always look forward to hearing from you.


	5. Chapter 5: Strife from Within

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Ok, so this chapter is sort of a two-part chapter, where the events in this chapter rather coincide with the events in the next chapter. I had to break it up in order to keep it from growing into a monstrous chapter with too much going on at once.

Chapter 5: Strife from Within

Arthur felt a sense of déjà vu as he watched Galahad and Aldric prepare to ride out, his heart heavy once more. Lancelot stood at his side, silent as the wind whipped at his clothing while he watched the grass sway with every gust. Behind them, Gawain and Dagonet spoke quietly, of what, Arthur couldn't hear.

"None of the others are coming?" he asked Lancelot.

"No. We said our farewells last night over much ale. Goodbyes are difficult, Arthur. We've lost too many over the years, and I think we all find it too painful to say goodbye to another. I don't think anyone else will come." At that moment, Aldric approached them with a sad smile, gripping each of their forearms in turn before he bowed his head in thought.

"I am no poet, Arthur, and I haven't the words to speak what I feel in my heart. You were a good commander, and I was proud to follow you." Arthur swallowed past a lump in his throat at Aldric's simple words.

"It is I who am proud, proud to have had you under my command. You watched over the others as a father would and it was your wisdom that so often guided me through the years. You will never be forgotten among us, Aldric. Go in peace, and know that you will be missed," Arthur said softly. Aldric nodded and turned away, mounting his horse as Galahad stepped forward.

"Arthur, I…goodbyes are hard for me. I don't want this to be difficult, so I'll simply say farewell. Until we meet in the next life." With a resolute nod, Galahad turned away, not giving Arthur a chance to speak, and Arthur knew that was how he wanted it. Gawain raised his hand in silent farewell as Galahad spurred his horse, his face betraying his grief at watching his best friend ride away. Gawain knew well enough that the likelihood of ever seeing Galahad again was slim, and it pained him greatly. Dagonet patted him on the shoulder without a word, motioning with his head back toward the fort.

"Come, Gawain. Let's get a drink." Gawain nodded and the two of them walked away, Gawain helping a still unsteady Dagonet maintain his balance.

"I'm glad you decided to stay, Lancelot," Arthur said softly as they were left alone.

"Yes, well, things were just starting to get interesting here," Lancelot said with a grin. "Besides, there's little to do in Sarmatia but grow crops, and I'm no farmer." Arthur laughed at the thought of Lancelot tilling the soil, and threw his arm over Lancelot's shoulder as they all headed for the main hall.

* * *

The room was thick with tension as Arthur took his customary place at the Round Table, looking around at the Woads and Saxons who had joined the Sarmatians--minus Caderyn--at the table to take part in the treaty for peace. Merlin and Guenevere were present, as well as a Woad man named Illbrech to represent the Woads closest to the Wall. Wulflaf was also there with all of his fellow Saxons, except for Offa, and as Arthur understood it, they represented the different tribes among the Saxons. _God in Heaven, give me Your strength to bring peace to this land._

"Now that we're all here, let us begin to work for peace between our peoples," Arthur began.

"Arthur, I should think it obvious that the best way to achieve peace is for the Saxons to return from whence they came," Guenevere said coldly. "You let them come before us for peace when they should be returning to their lands with the shame of their defeat. We owe them nothing, yet by your actions, you imply that we are weak."

"Who are you to question Arthur?" Lancelot sneered at her, angry on Arthur's behalf. Before Guenevere could retaliate, Merlin held up his hand for silence, his aged face weary.

"These arguments are senseless. A short term retreat by the Saxon will do us no good if it means future attacks. We need a long-term peace established, one that will protect our people. That is why we are here, and we will listen to what they have to propose."

"I think the first order of business should concern a cease in the hostilities," Illbrech said, Dayn translating his words for all to hear.

"We have done so," Wulflaf said, his brow creasing slightly in confusion.

"My people are still being attacked in the forests, and no one is safe," Illbrech said with a decisive shake of his head.

"I know nothing of this," Wulflaf said resolutely. No one noticed the barely discernible smirk on Leofric's face.

"Some of your people fled into the woods after the battle, and now they prey on our people. There is no other that it could be. We are at peace now with the Sarmatians, and the Romans are no longer here. It must be Saxons."

"I shall inquire into the matter," Wulflaf replied with a nod of acquiescence.

"Perhaps you should do more than inquire," Guenevere said in a biting tone.

"And perhaps you should keep out of it, woman. My tolerance for you grows smaller, and I am not a patient man."

"Let us return to the matter at hand," Arthur interrupted. "The attacks must cease, there is no question of that. Wulflaf, what say you?"

"The attacks come not at my command, Artair, for to send attackers when I attempt peace would be senseless. But your words hold truth—the attacks must stop. I will take some of my warriors into the woods and dispatch the traitors myself."

"If you were to do that, you'd be cut down before you reached the first break in the tree line. You're Saxon, and the Woads will see you as such," Dayn pointed out. "You'll have to take some of us with you."

"Some of you, or some of the Woads?"

"Well, it just so happens that I count for both. So I'll go," he replied with a cocky smile.

"You will need a good scout. I shall go as well," Tristan said with a quiet nod.

"I'd like to go also," Lancelot spoke up, never one to be left behind.

"Count me out," Gawain said with a shake of his head. "Someone's got to remain here and make sure that Caderyn stays put."

"I'll stay," Dagonet added. "I don't think I'm quite up to riding or fighting yet."

"I'm out, too," Bors said sheepishly. "Vanora will kill me if I go out again so soon, and it's hell living with her when she's angry. Besides," he said with a grin, "who am I to turn down a perfect opportunity to stay behind with my woman and all my little bastards?"

"Wulflaf, will you be leaving any of your men behind here in the garrison?" Arthur asked.

"Offa shall remain—his injuries are still too serious to risk taking him along. Halig shall stay with him. The rest will come with me."

"Merlin? Will you be sending some of your people as well?" Arthur asked.

"I refuse to trust them with the fate of my people. I'm going," Guenevere spoke up before Merlin could respond. Wulflaf gave her a look that clearly said otherwise.

"You have lost your senses if you honestly believe that you're coming along, Guenevere, because I'm for damn sure not going to listen to you bitch the entire journey!" Dayn said loudly.

"I agree with the fiery one," Wulflaf said, referring to Dayn.

"Touched by the goddess or not, Dayn, you will not speak to me that way," Guenevere replied coldly, speaking over Wulflaf.

"As long as you agree to stay behind, Guen, I've got no issue with you," Dayn said easily.

"Illbrech and I will send a few others to accompany you, Artorius," Merlin said, ignoring the two of them arguing as surely as he would the bickering of small children.

"Very well," Wulflaf said without argument. "We should leave now, in order to take care of the problem immediately. I shall wait for your people outside." He pushed his chair back resolutely, never one to sit and deliberate over something once a decision was made. "Oh, and leave the horses behind," he said over his shoulder as he left.

"And just when I thought things were going to get dull around here," Dayn said with a grin as he followed. Lancelot laughed and hurried to catch up with him, while Tristan followed at a more leisurely pace. Tristan never hurried, and he wasn't about to start.

"We will report our findings to you when we return, Arthur," he said in parting, and Arthur nodded, hoping that the group could manage to return without killing each other.

* * *

Gar and Wulflaf were waiting outside the main compound for the others when a familiar voice rang out across the courtyard. 

"There you are! I found you!" Hummingbird cried happily. She leaped forward into Gar's arms, and he instinctively caught her, surprise on his face. "Did you see my new dagger, Wulflaf?" she asked excitedly, pulling the dagger from the scabbard that hung low at her side. The scabbard and belt were so large on her small frame as to almost slip right off her waist, but she had managed to secure it somehow, and Gar grinned at the sight, no longer angry about the loss.

"That looks like a Saxon weapon," Wulflaf said, examining it as she held it up for him to see.

"That's because it is, silly," she said, shaking her head at him in amusement. "I won it from Gar."

"Ah. You either gamble well, or Gar is simply incompetent."

"Well, I sort of tricked him, really. It wasn't very nice, but Gar said he wasn't angry, so I guess it's alright."

"Perhaps we should call you little fox, then."

"Will you teach me how to use it, Wulflaf? Please? I'll be ever so good, and I'll try really hard," she said eagerly, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"It is for your father to teach you, not I."

"Couldn't you do it, though? Don't tell, but Papa's not really very good with daggers. Tristan and Dayn are, but they won't, because Papa said no. But you could do it! I bet you're really good," she said, glancing up at him coyly.

"I am not so easily played as that, _fea bridd_. If your father disapproves, then the matter is closed."

"But, he doesn't have to know! We could do it in secret, and then he won't be mad!"

"No." Not wishing to argue further with her, Wulflaf turned and strode away, calling back to Gar that they would be leaving shortly. Hummingbird watched him with disappointment before turning back slyly to face Gar.

"Will you teach me, Gar?"

"Why do you think me more likely to teach you than Wulflaf?"

"Um…because you're nicer than Wulflaf?" He grinned at her answer, and shook his head. "Please, Gar! I won't tell anyone, and you won't tell anyone, so it could be our secret!"

"Such skills are not for a girl-child such as you, _fea bridd_. That is a skill for boys who will become warriors."

"I'm not like those stupid boys who think they're better fighters than me--I'm going to be a _good_ warrior when I'm big! That's why I need you to teach me how to use my dagger."

"You believe this?"

"Yep. I'm Sarmatian, and we're _always_ good fighters. That's why I'm going to be really good when I'm growed up. Besides, girls are smarter than boys," she reasoned with a shrug. "So will you teach me?" She blinked wide, innocent eyes up at the tall Saxon, and he knew he couldn't resist.

"Very well," he said with a sigh, wondering why he was giving in even as he agreed to her proposal. "But no one can know," he told her sternly. _Oh well, I suppose it is a task set for those of us who are experienced warriors: to pass on our skills to the next generation. Perhaps she will learn well, and become a warrior of great renown. Highly unlikely for a female, but then, the blue-painted people have woman warriors, so perhaps there is something to it._ With a shrug, he set Hummingbird on her feet and gently nudged her in the opposite direction. "Go now, for I must leave with the others. Your place is here."

"Can you start teaching me when you get back?"

"We shall see."

* * *

Sæthryth ignored the mocking tones of the women around her as she stoically filled a large clay pitcher with water. She knew they mocked her because she was not one of them, but it still hurt, and she struggled not to let it show on her face. She longed greatly for female companionship, having had nothing but men around her for weeks. The loneliness was especially keen amid the strangeness of this land, so far from her home. _Of course, right now, I would settle for any companionship, if only there was someone to speak with,_ she thought sadly. Offa slept most of the time, and Halig was not a talkative man, she knew, so there was no companionship to be had there. 

There was another injured man who slept not far from Offa, but he was not one of her own, and she was afraid of him. He was Sarmatian, she'd heard Halig tell Offa during one of his rare wakeful moments, a warrior of some renown by all accounts. _He is certainly a handsome man, despite his ancestry_, she thought with a woman's critical eye, _broad through the shoulders and lean in the waist._

Her pitcher filled with fresh, cold water, she straightened, ignoring the taunts of the women as she made her way back to her brother's side. Though she had been offered a room, she had feared to be away from Offa and so had chosen to sleep on a cot by the wall where she was within sight of him. _Besides, being here gives me an opportunity to watch people, a change from the monotony of staring at a wall. _She slowed as she noticed a small group of Saxons grouped near the wall, their heads bent close together as they discussed something in a low tone. _Strange, and perhaps suspicious._ She gave it another moment's thought before dismissing them from her mind as she continued on her way, deciding that they couldn't be planning mischief in the heart of the Roman fort. By evening however, she would wish that she'd paid more attention.

* * *

Dayn could sense the change in the atmosphere the moment they entered the forest. No longer the comforting presence he'd found the forest to be, it now seemed darker, concealing some hidden danger from their eyes. Behind him, he could tell that Caireach and Muireann had also noted the change, as well as Illbrech's warriors Laeg and Cael. The Saxons were behind the Woads and in front of the Sarmatians, effectively sandwiched between the two groups to avoid accidents. Despite Wulflaf's protest, the Sarmatians rode their horses, for as Lancelot had told him, "We don't leave our horses behind." 

"Tristan, perhaps you should come up front where you'll serve some purpose," Dayn called back over his shoulder with a grin. Tristan rode up to him with nary a word, taking the lead. "Wait, Tristan, I'll come with you—I wouldn't want you to stumble into a trap, you know," Dayn called, his eyes alight with amusement. Tristan gave him a quelling look and passed by Dayn as the younger knight laughed.

It wasn't long before Tristan called for a halt as he knelt down to examine some sign on the ground.

"A small group of men passed through here, not long ago. Saxon."

"How do you know?" Drefan asked, peering over Tristan's shoulder curiously.

"There are seven different treads here, each of them obviously a man's. The deepness of the prints suggests considerable weight, and the Woads are a slender people not known for their bulk. One simply doesn't find many Woads of this magnitude. Your people, on the other hand, are quite large. Judging from the sheer number of the heavy treads, this can only be a group of Saxons."

"Oh," Drefan said as he straightened, considering Tristan's words before nodding. "Your logic is sound. I'm sure you are right." The group's progress slowed as Tristan searched the ground for more tracks.

"They move east. Let's go." The group bunched up together, no longer trying to remain separated as boredom set in. Progress was slow as they tried to push past limbs, bushes, and brambles in their attempt to follow the rogue Saxons.

"This would be a lot faster if the Saxons had horses," Lancelot grumbled.

"Not really," Dayn called back. "Do you honestly think we'd be going any faster trying to drag the Saxons along on horses? It's not as if we're traveling a decent road here, Lance, and the Saxons aren't exactly experienced riders. You know as well as I that a caravan can only ride as fast as its slowest rider. You ought to be thankful—for once, we get to ride slow enough to enjoy the scenery for a change."

"What's to enjoy? It's foggy, it's cold, and there's nothing but trees for miles. Not to mention, the threat of rain that looms over our heads," Lancelot grumbled back.

"Why do you sound so surprised, Lancelot?" Bors asked. "There's always a threat of rain. If there's anything in this country that can be counted on, it's the damned rain." They all shared a laugh, and Dayn was about to comment when he felt a presence next to him and looked down to see one of the Saxons, Lufian, had come up beside him.

"Why did the woman-the one Wulflaf dislikes- say you were touched by the goddess?" Lufian asked, looking up at him questioningly.

"The goddess, Nemhain, guides me in battle, makes me stronger."

"She is a war goddess, then?"

"Nemhain is the goddess of battle frenzy, one of the Morrigan."

"And she helps you fight?"

"I think she protects me from harm more than she aids me in battle. Nemhain is not a warrior goddess, but rather influences battle by causing panic and frenzy. The skills I use are my own, as is my rage. Nemhain merely fuels my rage during a battle, so that I become a more formidable opponent."

"You are one of the blessed, then, one who cannot be killed."

"That explains the difference between our peoples," one of the Woads spoke up from behind Lufian. "We do not see such a thing as a blessing. To have Nemhain's hand upon you in battle is a curse, for the battle consumes you until you will kill friend and foe alike unknowingly."

"I have never killed one of our own, Cael," Dayn said angrily.

"You wouldn't know if you did now, would you?" With a sneer, Cael pushed past Lufian and hurried to catch up with the other Woads, and Dayn watched him with a cold expression, with only a hint of hurt in his eyes.

"Have you?" Lufian asked. "Killed one of your people?"

"You'd have to ask someone else. I know nothing of what I do in battle, and I can never remember afterward," Dayn answered. With a troubled look, Lufian retreated, once more taking up a position with his people, his eyes on Dayn even as they followed him deeper into the forest.

* * *

The room where Offa and Caderyn lay resting was quiet, the mild sedatives having taken affect, and only the sounds of Offa's occasional groans and the Sarmatian knight's deep, even breathing were heard as moonlight filtered in through the window. 

Thus, it was a change in the sounds of the room that pulled Sæthryth out of a sound sleep, a creaking noise that interrupted the peaceful stillness. She froze as the door opened and two figures stood silhouetted in the doorway, two of the men she'd seen outside earlier. She watched wordlessly as Halig stood from his place at Offa's side, but before Halig could so much as draw his sword, someone hit him from behind with the blunt side of a sword, rendering him unconscious. _The window,_ Sæthryth thought in alarm, _one of them came through the window! What is this madness? _Fearing that they intended harm to her brother, she stood on shaking legs, praying fervently that they wouldn't notice her fear.

"Why do you harm your own?" she said, stepping forward into the light from the window.

"That's none of your concern, bitch. Now shut-up and stay where you are," replied the one who had hit Halig.

"You should go now," she said firmly, only the slightest tremor in her voice betraying her.

"Not without what we came for." He pointed the two in the doorway toward the Sarmatian who was already stirring. They grabbed him by his arms, tearing a harsh grunt of pain from the knight, and her eyes widened in alarm.

"What are you doing? You'll ruin the peace!"

"That's the point, woman," one of them said with a laugh.

"No, I won't let you!" she said, leaning down to scoop up Halig's fallen sword. She knew immediately that it was a mistake—the sword was too heavy for her, and the Saxon knew it as well as she did. He stepped forward and viciously backhanded her, sending the sword clattering to the floor as she recoiled from the blow.

Caderyn struggled in the grip of the two Saxons who held him, knocking over a bowl of water as well as a carafe of wine that had been placed at the bedside. He heard as though from a far distance the voice of a woman arguing followed by the unmistakable sound of a slap. Knowing that he'd never reach his sword, he was left with only his fists, and he lashed out accordingly, deciding that he would at least make his attackers work to take him down.

Offa woke at the sound of the sword hitting the floor, jerking awake even as the Saxons had pulled Caderyn from his bed. The Saxon who had hit Sæthryth threw her to the floor and straddled her, prompting Offa to grab his sword and lunge from his bed. Despite the pain that shot through his leg and the muzzy feeling in his head, Offa would let no man harm his sister.

"No! Stop!" someone yelled, but in the darkness, Sæthryth was hard pressed to tell who it was. Everyone's eyes went to the doorway where a fourth Saxon stood, and all movement ceased, except for the sounds of Caderyn struggling against the men who held him. Offa held still, trying to figure out why his own people were attacking them, and Sæthryth whimpered without moving, not wanting to remind the Saxon atop her of her presence. "Gifre, we don't have time for that," the Saxon said angrily, addressing the Saxon holding her down. "Knock her senseless and go help the others." Gifre climbed reluctantly to his feet, and with one blow, left Sæthryth lying on the floor much like Halig. Offa started forward, but the newest Saxon held up his hand. "I wouldn't do that—one step and the woman dies. Stay where you are, and she lives. We only want the Sarmatian."

"Why? Why would you risk war this way? When we are so close to peace?"

"Because we are Saxon, and we don't make peace with our enemies. Something you seem to have forgotten."

Gifre stepped up beside the other two Saxons who held Caderyn, and used the pommel of his sword to deliver a blow to Caderyn's head as well, and the Sarmatian went limp.

"We don't want trouble with you, son of Aethelgar, but you understand that I cannot leave you here to rouse the others."

"Do what you will to me, but leave my sister alone, for if harm should befall her, I will make sure you pay."

"And if you're dead?"

"Then you had best pray to whatever god you worship to protect you, for I will haunt you for eternity. And that is a promise," Offa said, even as he swayed on his feet from the pain that swept through him.

"She will not be harmed," the Saxon answered, and with that, he stepped forward and slammed his fist into Offa's head, catching him as he fell. With surprisingly gentle hands, the Saxon lowered Offa to the floor before turning to the others who still held Caderyn. "We have what we came for. Let's go."

* * *

A/N: Ok, so it's a "To be continued" sort of ending, but aren't those the best kind? Anyways, sorry for any mistakes, but with my internet connection down at home, I don't have the access to wait for a beta to read it. Anyways, so sorry if you find anything wrong! Read and review for me! 

To my reviewers:

**Camreyn:** If I'm not worn out after finishing up my other fanfics, I will definitely consider a Hummingbird fic. Funny, you're not the first to suggest that, so I'm thinking the idea must have some merit.

**chiefhow:** So glad that the last chapter was amusing. I'm so proud that I could make you actually giggle—LOL. And to answer your question, yes, Wulflaf is definitely hot. Gorgeous. Just out of curiosity, is there a particular person you picture when you imagine Wulf, or is it just a vague image of hotness? Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter as well—did it rate any giggles?

**Just a fan:** You know, I'm the same way myself—I love a good action story, but I fall for those romances every time. I actually read more romance novels than anything else. I'm glad you like my portrayal of Saxons, and I guess I can add you to my list of Hummingbird fans as well, huh? She's too cute to resist! Everyone ends up a fan of hers eventually. Anyways, thanks for reviewing—hope to hear from you again.

**dmitchell:** That's great about your Masters—so happy for you! What is your degree in? Let me know how your job search goes—I wish you luck! Wulflaf's past is going to come into the story rather slowly. It's all a question of fitting it in in a way that isn't too out of character for him—he's not exactly the sort of guy who's just going to open up and reveal everything in one conversation. I'm glad you find Hummingbird as endearing as I do—I just love her!

**Dagg:** Yeah, I'm struggling to keep Dayn in this story simply because the focus has shifted to Wulflaf. But I try. I'm having the same problem with Tristan, in case you wondered where he disappeared to. Oh, but I have a scene with him and Niamh planned for a future chapter, so there's hope at least. Also, don't put anything past Hummingbird, because she's incredibly clever. By the way, I was very amused to hear about your own Hummingbird, Eight! LOL!

**ModestySparrow9:** Ok, so I'll go ahead and apologize to you for having Galahad and Aldric leave. But I had to weed out some characters to make way for new ones. There's so many people involved that it's a struggle to fit them all in. But at least Lance is still here! I couldn't get rid of him--I have too much fun writing scenes between him and Dayn.

**KAfan:** After working a 12 hour shift, I don't blame you for having a little trouble with the characters. Especially if you have a lot of other favorite KA fics to keep straight. The more stories you read, the harder it is to keep them separated. I'm trying to keep things simple, so I pushed some material into the next chapter. Let me know what you think!

**R e i h a N e k o:** I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far! I don't know how realistic it is, but I'm having fun with it. Hummingbird is so much fun to write, so I try to squeeze her into every chapter. Anyways, let me know how you liked this chapter, too, okay?


	6. Chapter 6: Joint Efforts

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Ok, so I found a blooper when I was reading over the last chapter…I went back and corrected it, but for those of you who don't want to reread Chapter 5 for one word, I shall simply tell you that Bors is NOT with the group that is tracking down the renegade Saxons. Oh, and I think I found any mistakes here, but if not, sorry.

Chapter 6: Joint Efforts

Gawain stared up at a gray sky that threatened rain and heaved a weary sigh. _I hate rain_, he thought sullenly as he stepped out of the doorway of his quarters. He started to turn left towards Dagonet's quarters, but a movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye and he turned to glance over his shoulder. It was the Saxon girl…_but something isn't right_, he noticed immediately, taking in her stumbling gait and the hand she had placed against the wall for support. _Surely, she isn't drunk,_ he thought incredulously. She lifted her head to look at him, and that was when he saw the blood trickling down from her forehead.

"What happened?" he asked, hurrying forward to help her. She took his arm gratefully, leaning heavily on him.

"Where is Artair?" she asked slowly. "I must find him," she said, looking up at him with guileless blue eyes.

"I imagine he's at the Round Table, but I can't be certain. Perhaps you should lie down—you're hurt," he said worriedly.

"Not until I speak to him."

"What is so important that you need to see Arthur?"

"Don't you mean, what could a mere woman possibly have to say to a Roman commander?" He blushed at her words, knowing that she had known his thoughts exactly.

"Well, you must admit, it is unusual."

"Yes, well, it's also important. One of his knights…"

"What?" he asked sharply, coming to an abrupt halt and turning her to face him, his hands gripping her shoulders firmly. Her eyes filled with fear, and Gawain realized with a start that she was afraid of him. _Not that I blame her—she doesn't even know me._ "I'm not going to hurt you," he said, releasing her with apologetic eyes.

"Please, I just need to speak to Artair, to tell him what has happened." Figuring he could find out the trouble when Arthur did, he nodded and led the way to the Round Table.

* * *

"Arthur!" At the sound of Gawain's voice, Arthur looked up with tired eyes to see the longhaired knight coming forward with a young woman with golden hair and startlingly blue eyes. "This woman has something to tell you. I think she has bad news." 

"You are Artair, the one who leads the Sarmatians?" Sæthryth asked Arthur carefully.

"Yes, I am. And who are you?"

"I am Sæthryth, sister of Offa."

"Offa is the injured Saxon," Gawain said helpfully, and Arthur nodded, growing uneasy at the sight of the blood at Sæthryth's temple.

"What happened?"

"Please, you mustn't be angry," she pleaded, her eyes dark with anxiety. "It wasn't our fault," she said with a shaky voice.

"Woman, speak what you know," Arthur commanded, his tone harsher than usual because of his worry.

"They took him," she suddenly blurted out. "Your knight, the dark-haired one."

"Hold on," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I need more information than that-- I have several dark-haired knights, so I don't know which one you speak of."

"I don't know his name. He was one of the injured, and there is a scar on his face, here," she said gesturing toward her temple, wincing as her fingers brushed the bleeding cut there.

"Caderyn," Gawain said, realizing who she spoke of at the same time Arthur did.

"You're saying someone took him?"

"Yes. Some of the warriors came in the night and took him," she said worriedly, her eyes fearful of Arthur's reaction. "They mean to destroy the peace, Artair, but you mustn't let that happen!"

"Some of your people took Caderyn, and no one tried to stop them?" Gawain asked angrily.

"Halig was taken by surprise—they hit him before he could respond, and he was struck insensible. I tried, Artair," she said despondently, looking up at Arthur with misery in her eyes, "but Halig's sword was too heavy for me, and I am no warrior. Offa could not act to save your knight, either—he would have, but he said that they threatened to kill me if he interceded. I am sorry, Artair."

"Your brother—I need to speak with him before I send men out to search for Caderyn. Where is he?"

"He remains with the healer—he sent me to tell you the news. Come, I will lead you," she said, turning on her heel only to stagger. Arthur caught her, holding her upright as she dizzily tried to maintain her balance.

"Lady, you need to rest. You're in no condition for this."

"No, I'm fine, now. I just lost my balance for a moment." She began to walk for the door, Arthur keeping pace with her so that she didn't have to relinquish her grip on his arm. As they headed back to where Offa waited, she looked up at him with worried eyes. "Artair, you won't let this ruin our hope for peace, will you? Wulflaf knew nothing of this, I'm certain of it. I know little of him, but Offa speaks well of him."

"Do not worry yourself. All will be well," Arthur said kindly, reassuring her even as his heart filled with worry for Caderyn.

Gawain was following closely on their heels when he suddenly recalled the previous day, when he and the others had gone to the tavern and were joined by Drefan, the youngest of Wulflaf's Saxons. Wulflaf had arrived later that day, Gawain recalled, to warn them...

_When the door of the tavern swung open, Gawain looked up just in time to see Wulflaf walk into the tavern as though he owned it, bringing the occupants to a standstill as everyone turned to stare at the large Saxon who stood in the doorway. Though Drefan had easily put everyone at ease, the same could not be said for the Saxon leader. From the corner, Drefan rose from his seat with the Sarmatians, motioning for Wulflaf to join them. He ignored the suspicious gazes from the Sarmatians, as did Wulflaf, the young warrior sliding over so that Wulflaf could move another chair to the table._

_Lancelot ignored him, occupied by the woman in his lap and the ale in his hand. Wulflaf dragged a chair up beside Lancelot, but ignored the ale that Drefan slid in front of him as he placed his hand on Lancelot's shoulder and turned the knight around to face him. Lancelot looked at him with annoyance before turning back to the woman, and annoyed, Wulflaf gave the unfortunate woman a quelling look that sent her running. Lancelot angrily turned back to face Wulflaf, but the Saxon gave him no chance to speak. _

"_You must tell Artair that there will be trouble soon," he said, staring at Lancelot with his usual cold stare._

"_What sort of trouble? Are you threatening us?" Gawain asked menacingly, his hand dropping to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.._

"_I did not say the trouble would come from me." Cold blue eyes met hostile green ones as Wulf spared a glance for Gawain. "But there are certain factions who grow troublesome," Wulflaf continued, turning his gaze back to Lancelot. "I believe they will attempt to destroy our peace in order to force my hand. They will do so by attacking your fort, and those closest to you."_

"_You're saying they'll attack our families?" Bors asked incredulously._

"_It is a possibility. You had best look to your little one."_

"_Which one?"_

"_You have more than one?"_

"_Gods, man, I have twelve of the little bastards running loose around here."_

"_Eleven," the knights corrected him collectively._

"_How am I supposed to keep track of all of 'em?"_

"_I think it is _Fea Bridd_ who is at most risk. "_

"_Who?"_

"_Your number Eight," Drefan said helpfully._

"_She has been seen in my company, and thus could be used against me." _

"_What's she been doing in your company?" Bors asked suspiciously. _

"_Making a nuisance of herself, no doubt," Lancelot said before shaking his head decisively. "Now can we please get back to the matter at hand," Lancelot broke in. "What can you tell us about this attack, Wulflaf?"_

"_It is mere speculation at this point, but I wished to inform you so that you may prepare."_

"Arthur, I'm sorry." Arthur turned at Gawain's words, puzzlement on his face as he beheld Gawain's guilt-ridden face.

"What is this you speak of?"

"Wulflaf tried to warn us that this could happen, only we didn't listen."

"We haven't the time for guilt and recrimination, Gawain. We need to make sure no one else was taken in the night. Find the others." Arthur's words put an abrupt end to Gawain's thoughts, and he shook off his guilt. "Check on Dagonet, first. He's still injured and vulnerable."

Arthur and Sæthryth continued on to see Offa, leaving Gawain to his task. Turning on his heel, he hurried in the direction of Dagonet's quarters only to meet Bors coming towards him with Hummingbird skipping along behind him cheerfully.

"Bors, have you seen Dagonet this morning?"

"Yeah, just came from there. Why? What's wrong?"

"Some of those Saxon bastards took Caderyn sometime in the night. Arthur sent me to make sure they hadn't tried to take Dag as well."

"Papa, where's Caderyn?" Hummingbird said worriedly, staring up at Bors with fearful eyes.

"I dunno yet, Eight. But we'll find him."

"I can help you find him—I'm a good finder," she said earnestly.

"Bors!" Hummingbird fell silent, and both men turned to see Vanora hurrying toward them.

"What is it, love?"

"Dayn's girl, Orainne—I can't find her anywhere. I'm worried, Bors. She was feeling poorly, what with the baby and all…"

"Baby? What're you talking about?"

"Dayn, didn't tell you?"

"Tell us what?" Gawain asked.

"Orainne's going to have a babe, come the spring. She was going to come see me this morning, but she never came. And no one's seen her."

Gawain turned to look at Bors with a worried expression, only to see the same expression mirrored on Bors' face.

"Damn. If Dayn hears about this before we get her back, then there's going to be bloodshed, I promise you."

"Do you not think it hasty to assume she has been taken? She could have simply returned to the woods to her people while Dayn is away," Gawain said, hesitant to make such a hasty conclusion.

"I can't say for sure, Gawain, but something tells me that I'm right. I don't think the girl is one to wander off alone—she certainly wouldn't have left the garrison without another, and I'm sure she would have told us. How else would Dayn know where she was when he returned? No, the girl's been taken, Gawain, you mark my words."

"I'll go tell Arthur," he told Bors. "And keep Hummingbird close to you, Bors. She's been seen with us as well as with the Saxons just as much as Orainne."

* * *

"Is it true what they say? Did you really kill your own brother?" 

Wulflaf didn't react to Caireach's sudden question, just as he hadn't when she'd sat down beside him moments before. His face remained stoically blank as he lifted his head to look at her with his piercing eyes. She stared back at him without flinching, and Wulf felt a glimmer of respect for her at her apparent lack of intimidation.

"Well, did you? Kill your brother?" she prompted, her eyes searching his face as though the answer could be found there.

"Half."

"I don't understand."

"Cynric was my half-brother. We had the same father, nothing more." His mind wandered back of its own accord, and he found himself recalling a day many years before. He'd been fifteen at the time, Cynric a mere twelve…

"_Stupid woman, how many times must I tell you before you get it right?" Wulf paused at the sound of Cynric's voice, his eyes narrowing at the unrecognizable sound of a slap._

"_I'm sorry," came the soft reply, and Wulf froze, his blood boiling as rage and shame filled him. He charged into the tent, immediately comprehending the situation. Cynric raised his hand at the woman kneeling before him, but before he could strike, Wulflaf charged forward and grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully behind his back._

"_Let go, Wulflaf!" Cynric yelled angrily._

"_If you ever strike my mother again, Cynric, I'll kill you," Wulf said coldly, a lifetime of enmity having long killed any sense of affection he might have had for his younger half-sibling. His free hand came up to wrap around Cynric's throat, and the younger boy stilled._

"_You can't kill me," Cynric said arrogantly. "Father would see you dead if you did."_

"_Yes, well you wouldn't be alive to see it, would you?" He jerked Cynric around, delivering a swift backhand to the younger boy's face. _

"_You're just jealous because Father loves my mother more than yours," Cynric sneered, even as he backed away from his older brother. _

"_Cerdic loves no one, Cynric. The sooner you learn that, the longer you'll live. But if you wish to delude yourself into thinking that he cares for you or your mother, then do as you will. But stay away from my mother," Wulf told Cynric with a scathing look. His fingers tightened threateningly around Cynric's throat before he shoved him roughly outside. Knowing that Cynric would be too embarrassed to say anything to Cerdic, Wulf turned his back and bent down, holding his hand out for Aedre. He helped his mother to her feet without a word, but inside he was smoldering with anger._

"_Don't be angry, my son. There was little harm done here," she said, smiling gently at him as she raised a hand to her cheek._

"_The harm may be small, but the offense is much greater. Cynric will pay dearly for harming you, Mother. I shall see to it."_

"_No, you mustn't, Wulflaf," Aedre said earnestly, worried for her strong-willed son. "He is much his father's son, and Cerdic will certainly hear of it if you harm his favored son. I would not have you punished for hurting your brother."_

"_He is no brother of mine." Cerdic had certainly made sure of that, pitting the two brothers against one another from the moment of the younger one's birth. Animosity had grown into all-embracing hatred that nothing could undo._

"We were not close," Wulflaf said abruptly, cutting off the memory before it could become more painful.

"Oh? There is a story there, I sense. Perhaps you shall tell me of it one day," Caireach replied.

"No. We will not speak of it."

"I imagine it is difficult for you to speak of your brother so soon after his death, even though you were not close."

"No. Cynric caused much strife, and I was only too happy to slay him."

"Perhaps if I understood your relationship with him, I could understand why you feel no sorrow at his passing."

"And is it so important for you to understand?" She didn't reply, only stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Wulf pulled his dagger out and began to shear the bark from a stick lying beside him as he began to speak once more. "Cynric was well aware that he was favored by our father, and he was not above using that against me frequently. From the moment of Cynric's birth, our father insured that we grew to hate one another. He did well."

"But why would your father do such a thing?"

"It is our way."

"To generate animosity between brothers? To favor the younger son over the oldest without reason?"

"It was not without reason."

"What reason could he have?" she asked incredulously.

"There are circumstances surrounding my birth that made me…unworthy of him." Before Caireach could question him further, Wulflaf's gaze suddenly shifted away from her as he focused on Leofric. He watched as Leofric stepped away from the fire and the others, slipping unobtrusively into the trees.

"What is it?" Caireach asked, placing her hand on his arm as she followed his gaze.

"Nothing." He stood suddenly, and walked away, settling himself against a tree as though to rest for the night. The others, it seemed, preferred to remain by the fire, but Wulflaf preferred not to sleep with his back unguarded. It was a lesson he had learned early in life, to never leave himself vulnerable to attack, and he had learned it well.

* * *

The attack came without warning, and a yell pierced the air as Laeg screamed in pain. Dayn awoke without a trace of disorientation, rolling from his bedroll instinctively, just managing to miss the sword that was poised to strike. 

He pulled his sword from the scabbard at his back, yelling a warning for the others even as he crouched into a defensive posture. As he stared into the eyes of his attacker, he called out, never taking his eyes from the Saxon before him.

"Laeg, can you fight?" he called to the injured Woad. Not hearing a reply, fury welled up in him, and a wild light came into his eyes as he let loose with a spine-chilling yell that seemed to come from the very depths of hell. Coherent thought was lost as he suddenly lunged forward, his sword swinging relentlessly at his foe. He cut down the first man, and turned to face his next opponent, his sword moving as though of its own accord.

The others had quickly rallied, and weapons were drawn against the rogue Saxons who had surrounded the camp. Wulflaf coldly stared at the Saxon before him, giving him a look that promised death. Callously, he stepped forward, coming in under the man's guard and ruthlessly driving his sword into the man's unprotected front. A bloodcurdling scream rent the air, and Wulflaf froze, distantly wondering if the Valkyries had finally come for him. Then he realized that the yell came not from the legendary Valkyries, but from one of the Sarmatians, the fiery one. Around Wulflaf, the other Saxons were also shocked to a standstill, and the rogues were beginning to fall back, fearful of the crazed knight who fought as though Odin himself had possessed him.

While the Saxons were watching Dayn with a mixture of awe and fear, Tristan took the opportunity to start firing arrows into the unsuspecting rogues. Lancelot, too, took the chance to strike, and within moments, it was obvious that the advantage lied not with the ambushers, but with the ambushed.

"Make sure to take one of them alive," Lancelot yelled, even as he struck down another attacker. The sound of steel resounding upon steel echoed through the dense foliage, mingling with the harsh guttural cries of men in battle. And soon, there was only one Saxon remaining. The warrior, realizing that he alone remained, sank to his knees, laying his sword on the ground by his side. Leofric stepped up beside him, gazing down at him with cool eyes as the others began to wipe the blood from their swords on the bloodstained grass. Dayn subsided into an exhausted stupor, gazing down indifferently at the blood that had bathed the front of him. Muireann slowly approached him, gently prying his sword from his fingers as she knelt to wipe it clean for him, slipping the newly cleaned blade back into his scabbard.

Wulflaf disinterestedly wiped the blood from his own sword on the leg of his breeches as he started forward to question the remaining renegade. He needed only to know who sent the man before he killed him, but as he approached, Leofric suddenly wheeled back from the defeated Saxon, his sword flashing as he cleaved the man's head cleanly from his shoulders.

"Fool!" Wulflaf said venomously, swinging his hand in a vicious backhand that raked Leofric across the face. Leofric looked up at Wulflaf with angry eyes, his fists clenching as he fought the urge to retaliate.

"Why do you strike me? He might have killed me, if I had not struck first."

"Your stupidity is astounding," Lancelot said from behind Wulflaf, his eyes flashing as he stared at Leofric over Wulflaf's shoulder. "We might have learned something from this man, but now we learn nothing of who sent him."

"It is useless to admonish," Tristan interrupted, never one to tolerate ineffective quarreling. "We should return to the garrison," he said, slipping his sword easily back into its scabbard. He turned his back and walked to his horse, the others following with an array of emotions, ranging from frustration to outright anger. As always, Wulflaf showed nothing of what he felt as a rush of anger filled him, dark and cold as it settled in his stomach. _Soon_, he thought, _soon I will settle this matter once and for all._

* * *

A/N: In Norse myth, the Valkyries are "Choosers of the Slain." Basically, they're warrior maidens who ride into battles and pick out warriors to take to Valhalla, warrior heaven. Odin is the Norse equivalent to Zeus, so he serves as a god of war, death, and knowledge. Check out if you want more info. To all my lovely reviewers, thank you! 

**ModestySparrow9**: You know, now that Aldric and Galahad are gone, I sort of miss them. Sometimes, they were handy for dialogue and such. Oh well…I've got a whole bunch of Saxons now, so maybe that'll help. Unfortunately, I haven't seen War of the Worlds, so your new fic wouldn't make any sense…sorry. But I'm sure it's well-written, of course. Anyways, let me know what you think of the chapter!

**chiefhow**: It's really driving me insane trying to figure out someone that I can use to visualize Wulf. Who could he be! Be on the lookout for me, okay? So glad that Hummingbird rocks your socks…she only makes a small appearance in this chapter, but I'll try to pull her back in sometime soon. It probably won't be the next chapter, but we'll see. And you know, I realize that I'm not too kind with Guenevere, but I can't seem to help myself. I just have to let Dayn or Wulf say the horrible things about her that come to mind. I never cared much for her character in the myths…she was okay in the movie, but I can't seem to get rid of that tendency to insult her. Anyways, I hope you'll review for me again, because I always look forward to hearing from you.

**Just a fan**: I'm so glad that you think the story is awesome—it's so pleasing to know that hard effort pays off. And it's good to know that my story is unique…hopefully, I'll continue to pick up some more fans, because I love hearing from people who enjoy the story. Thanks so much! Oh, and glad to see you've joined the ranks of Hummingbird fans. Anyways, hope you got a shriek of happiness at this chapter, too. Sorry for the long wait! Keep reviewing, okay?

**Camreyn**: Ah, Camreyn, it's so good to see that you're sticking with my stories despite the long wait in between updates. Thanks! Anyways, to answer your question, the mystery Saxon, at this point, is no one in particular. Maybe that will change, but not at the moment. As for your question concerning Cade and Sæthryth, well, let's just say I have plans for them-heh heh. And as to why Arthur didn't speak up at the meeting instead of Merlin, well…it's just not like Arthur to involve himself in the petty squabbling that the others engage in. Anyways, sorry for the long wait on the chapter…hope it was worth it!

**dmitchell**: Accounting and business management, huh? Too much math for me—I'm horrible with numbers. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even though it took a long time for it to be posted. I'm struggling to find time to write anything, and between the three fics I'm working on, it's just taking awhile to get anything done. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner.

**Artemis Darkclaw**: I can honestly say that Guen's dislike of Wulflaf is entirely mutual on his part—he hates her just as much as she hates him. Actually, Wulflaf's hatred for her largely stems from my own dislike of the traditional Guenevere. I liked her okay in the movie, but I can't move past the dislike I felt for her in the myths. As for Leofric, I don't want to give anything away this early in the game—just know that I have plans for him. Anyways, I really appreciate all the reviews you sent me—it's so exciting to see them waiting in my Inbox. I haven't forgotten about Fynncara, and I totally plan to get back to it. I just wanted to get this posted, since everyone's been waiting over a month for it—I can't believe it's been that long! Anyways, review for me if you can, and I'll try to return the favor soon!


	7. Chapter 7: A Growing Conflagration

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Please note that the Torr is Leofric's tribe. I completely made the tribal names up, so don't accord them any sort of historical accuracy. Besyr is Leofric's father, the leader of the Torr. As always, sorry for any mistakes!

Chapter 7: A Growing Conflagration

Caderyn came awake with a groan, deciding against opening his eyes at the throbbing pain in his head. He could feel the dried blood caked on the side of his face from the cut on his head, but couldn't for the life of him remember the cause of it. _Must have been some night last night, if I can't even remember it._

"Caderyn!" The voice was familiar, and Caderyn instinctively turned his head that the sound of his name, groaning at the pain that the movement caused. _Whose voice was that? How much did I drink last night?_ "Caderyn, be awake," the voice whispered again, and Caderyn felt an instant wave of panic. _Orainne? Gods, please don't let me have done something stupid with Dayn's woman last night. _Small, slender hands gripped his shoulders, gently trying to shake him awake, and he opened his eyes to see Orainne staring worriedly at him.

"Damn. Orainne, please tell me that you and I didn't…" he began as he reached up to massage his aching head, only to realize that his hands were firmly secured around a tent post at his back. "What is this? What happened?" Suddenly, his memory of the previous night's events came back to him and he recalled the blow he'd taken to the head, compliments of a particularly nasty Saxon. _But what is Orainne doing here?_

"Orainne, where are we?"

"Saxons take us to Saxon camp," she said haltingly, shaking her head in frustration at her inability to communicate all that she knew with him. Not that she knew much to tell him, but it aggravated her nevertheless.

"I see they knocked you senseless as well," he said affably, his usual easy-going nature reasserting itself as he took in the nasty bruise on her temple. Orainne, not understanding him, gave him a strange look before sitting back on her heels, looking at him helplessly. He smiled reassuringly, though he felt none of the confidence he showed her. To be honest, he was worried. He had no idea what the Saxons were planning, but he knew that whatever it was couldn't be good. _I can see why they might take me, but why Orainne? _He knew the danger was greater for her than it was for him, and he could only pray to the goddess of fortune that they wouldn't harm her. Dayn would never forgive him if he let something happen to Orainne, and Caderyn would never forgive himself. He looked around, slowly, so as not to cause any more pain to his head, taking in the drab canvas walls of the shadowy tent. He shifted his shoulders, trying to find a comfortable position against the post as he strained to see into the shadows.

"Are we alone?" She shrugged at his question, clearly not understanding, and he tried again, not letting on that he was frustrated as well. "Saxons?"

Her face cleared as she understood, and she shook her head, pointing towards the flap of the tent. He breathed a little easier, then, knowing that the immediate threat was at least no longer an issue.

"Are you hurt, Orainne?" he asked, hoping that she could understand him even as he voiced the question. She hesitated for a moment, as though considering his words before she cautiously shook her head.

"You are hurt?" she asked him.

"The way my head is aching, I feel like I'm hung-over with no memory of getting that way. And my side feels like it's on fire. I'm beginning to wonder if the gods are conspiring against me." He knew she didn't understand his words, but he had a feeling that it comforted them both for him to ramble a bit, so he saw no harm in it. He leaned his head back against the post, heaving a weary sigh, once again shifting in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure on his shoulders and wrists.

"I am scared, Caderyn," Orainne whispered, her lower lip trembling as she stared at him with tear-filled eyes.

"No, don't cry," Caderyn entreated, aghast at the sight of her tears. "Dayn will come for you, and then all will be well. You'll see," he told her softly, hoping he sounded more convincing than he felt. She slid closer to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her middle and pulled her knees to her chest, curling protectively around the baby that was nestled safely in her womb.

Please hurry, Dayn. We need you so, she thought, fear and worry weighing heavily upon her as she sagged weakly against Caderyn. 

Caderyn comforted her as best he could, but he knew well enough that he could do little to protect her if the Saxons came for her. Worry gnawed at his gut, and frustration at the knowledge that he would be useless against the Saxons, tied up as he was. _Dayn, if you hope to save her, you'd best hurry your ass,_ he thought ruefully. He glanced down at Orainne, still curled against him, and bit his lip, settling in nervously to watch the entrance for any who entered.

* * *

The journey back to the fort was a silent one, most of the warriors quietly fuming at the loss of the last surviving traitor at the tip of Leofric's sword. Dayn felt a bone-deep exhaustion coming over him, made all the worse by the pain of the numerous wounds that had failed to heal completely. 

"Avatar, are you ill?" Dayn blinked, hearing the words but not fully understanding them for a long moment, weariness making his reaction time slow. When the words finally registered, he turned to see Muireann looking at him worriedly.

"I'm fine, Muireann. Just tired," he answered, swaying a bit in the saddle. She walked beside his horse, their pace slow as a result of the Saxons and Woads who had refused horses. Only the Sarmatians rode on horseback, and the journey was excruciatingly slow for them, but they bore it well.

"You are truly a warrior to be reckoned with, _brond dreca_." Dayn turned to see Lufian staring at him in awed respect. "It is true what they say--you are surely blessed by the gods."

"Blessed or cursed?" Dayn murmured softly.

"Tyr himself blesses your sword, _brond dreca_, and the rage of Odin precedes you in battle--why would you think yourself cursed?"

"It is as Cael says --I lack the ability to know friend from foe when I fight, and it is only by the grace of the gods or the pity of Nemhain that I haven't killed one of my own mistakenly," Dayn said bitterly.

"You really know nothing of what you do in battle?"

"No. I remember none of it."

"Would that the gods had granted me the gift of oblivion as they have seen fit to grant you," Wulflaf said suddenly, and Dayn started, unaware that the Saxon leader had joined them. He looked around, surprised to see that not only had Wulflaf joined them, but Drefan and Caireach as well.

"And what have you to forget?" Caireach asked softly.

"Many things," Wulflaf answered enigmatically. Dayn watched with growing interest as Caireach sidled closer to Wulflaf's side, staring up at him with alluring eyes.

"Such as?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Wulflaf said coldly, setting her aside with a deadly stare. He walked ahead of them without a backward glance, and Dayn watched him go with speculation in his eyes, the expression mirrored on the faces of the others.

"Woman, you should know--he doesn't speak of the past. It is best not to mention it," Drefan said wisely.

"Why? What happened to him?" Her eyes pleaded with him to tell, and he could feel his resolve weakening.

"There was a woman…" he said slowly, "but she was lost to him."

"Lost?" Dayn asked with a frown. "Who took her?"

"Hel. She is the goddess of the dead who do not perish in battle."

"So she died?"

"Yes," he answered, not elaborating any further on the matter.

"What was her name?" Caireach asked, her heart filling with pity and sadness.

"I don't remember. Offa knows, and perhaps Gar, but I only heard the tale by listening to Offa speak of her to Wulflaf once."

"Eavesdropping, were you?" she asked teasingly.

"Of course I was. How else would I find out these things? I am not known for keeping such mysteries to myself." Dayn chuckled, even as Caireach laughed prettily at Drefan's words.

"Drefan, your foolish ways will be your downfall," Lufian said with a shake of his head. "If Wulflaf knew of your eavesdropping, he would punish you, have no doubt of that."

"That is why he won't find out," Drefan said with a grin. Lufian slapped the back of Drefan's head playfully, unable to resist the young Saxon's sense of humor before he turned to Caireach, the smile falling from his face as he gripped her arm suddenly.

"Listen, woman, you mustn't speak of these things in Wulflaf's presence--he will not welcome your trespass," Lufian told her solemnly.

"Lufian speaks truth, lady. The night Offa spoke of the woman didn't end well."

"What happened?" Dayn asked, his curiosity piqued.

"He almost killed Offa."

"I see. And would he kill me? If I spoke of her?" Caireach asked.

"Surely not," Dayn said incredulously.

"Do not underestimate his wrath, dragon-warrior. He hasn't your fire, but he has a coldness in him that is just as deadly. He does what he will and little sways him from his course. Just be warned, woman," Lufian said, turning back to Caireach, "do not speak of this, for if you incur his wrath, nothing can protect you."

"I am a warrior, Saxon. I need no one's protection."

"Warrior though you may be, your skill will not save you if you anger him."

"I shall think on your words, then." She stepped away, and the three men silently watched her go, before Dayn looked down at the Saxons with a speculative look in his eye.

"My woman is right about them."

"What mean you?" Lufian asked.

"There is something between Caireach and Wulflaf, something elusive, but Orainne sensed that it may yet come to fruition. She is right--they will yet be lovers, just wait," Dayn said confidently.

Lufian and Drefan looked at one another, their faces betraying their skepticism, and Dayn laughed.

"And do you speak for the love-goddess now as well?" Drefan said with a grin, and Dayn shared a laugh with them, wondering distantly at the strangeness of it all. _To think, I'm speaking with Saxons instead of slaying them. I can't wait to tell Caderyn--he'll never believe this. Just wait till I tell him._

* * *

"Eight, where are you going?" Lucan asked sleepily as he rolled over to see Hummingbird sneaking out the window. She turned sharply, almost falling before she climbed back down and crossed over to him. 

"Caderyn and Orainne are missing, Lucan. I'm going to go find them."

"But you could get hurt, Hummingbird," he protested.

"Lucan, I have to—Caderyn's my friend. He looked for me when I was lost, and he found me, too! So I'm gonna look for him, now."

"Your papa won't like it if you sneak away and look for him all by yourself."

"You could come with me, and then I wouldn't be alone," she said brightly.

"I don't know," he hesitated, his eyes worried as he looked at the floor, considering. "But what if the Saxons see us?"

"They won't hurt us," she said confidently. "Cause they won't know we're there. We'll just sneak in, find Caderyn, and then sneak back out. That's it. Come on, Lucan. You just gotta come with me," she urged. "Caderyn would do it for us."

"But…"

"Look, I got my new dagger with me, so we'll be safe. I promise." Lucan looked at her hesitantly before slowly nodding his acquiescence.

"Alright, Hummingbird." He threw his blanket off and stood, and together the two of them melted into the shadows as Hummingbird led the way to the Saxon camp.

* * *

"Looks like we have a welcoming party, boys and girls," Lancelot said dryly as they rode within sight of the garrison. Dayn looked up to see Arthur waiting for them, the other knights at his side. A wave of trepidation swept through him and he reined in Brina. 

"Dayn, what is it?" Lancelot asked, turning back to look at him questioningly.

"I don't know. Something's wrong."

"And what leads you to that conclusion?"

"I can't explain it, Lance. I just know that when I ride through those gates, my welcome won't be a good one."

"Well, you can't simply sit here all day. C'mon." Knowing that Lancelot was right didn't make it any easier, but Dayn could see he had little choice but to continue. They reined in the horses inside the courtyard and Arthur made straightaway for Dayn.

Dayn dropped his saddlebags at his side as he turned to face Arthur, knowing that this moment was the one he'd dreaded. Bors, Gawain, and Dagonet at his side made Arthur's approach all the more ominous, and Dayn could only conclude that they were expecting trouble from him.

"Arthur, what's happened?"

"Dayn, I don't want you to panic, but we have a slight problem…"

"Arthur, none of your cryptic words--just tell me."

"Orainne is missing, Dayn, as is Caderyn. We suspect that more of the rogue Saxons have taken them."

Dayn heard nothing after that as a roaring filled his ears, his blood pounding furiously in his veins.

"You were supposed to keep her safe!" he yelled. "Where is she!" He grabbed Arthur by the tunic, his fingers tightening in the fabric as his heart screamed at him for answers.

"Dayn, we've been waiting for Wulflaf and Tristan to return with the rest of you before we start searching. Tristan is our best tracker, and he has the greatest chance of tracking them down. And Wulflaf may prove to be invaluable in searching the Saxon camp."

"I care not about your strategies, Arthur--my woman is missing and you've done nothing! Well, curse you, I'll find her myself!" He started to mount up once more, but Gawain and Bors moved to block him.

"Don't stand in my way," Dayn commanded, his voice dropping menacingly.

"Dayn, I'm afraid we can't let you go after her. You could get her killed if you rush in to save her. There are other ways," Gawain said softly. Dayn's eyes darkened, narrowing threateningly, and Bors shook his head.

"Come on, Dayn, let's not do this the hard way."

Dayn didn't reply as he pulled his sword from the scabbard, backing away to give himself more room to maneuver.

"Somehow, I just knew that wasn't going to work," Bors mumbled as he settled into a more appropriate battle stance.

With a hoarse cry of outrage mingled with hopelessness, Dayn charged, his sword drawn back to strike. His vision went red as the battle rage came over him, and he gave himself to it willingly, preferring the mind-numbing anger to the gut-wrenching despair that threatened to overtake him.

"Lancelot!" From behind Dayn, Lancelot surged forward before Bors had even finished calling his name, leaping on Dayn from behind and slowing the younger knight's charge. Bors quickly stepped into the fray, helping Lancelot hold the struggling knight as Gawain wrested the sword from Dayn's hand. They hoped that Dayn would calm himself, but he seemed to grow only more enraged, screaming wordlessly as the Saxons and Woads looked on in awe and alarm.

"Damn it, Dayn, I didn't want to do this, but you've forced my hand," Lancelot said between gasps for breath. He yelled for Tristan to jump in, and when the scout had taken a firm hold on Dayn, Lancelot stepped back and pulled his sword. "I'm sorry for this, Dayn." Arthur started to protest, but before he could speak, Lancelot shifted his grip on the hilt and brought it down on Dayn's temple.

Dayn sagged in their grip, blood dripping down the side of his face as he struggled not to give into the beckoning void. But in the end, he couldn't fight off the darkness, and he slipped into oblivion with something akin to relief.

"Bors, Gawain, take him to the garrison prison. I hate to do it, but we can't afford for him to run free right now. We'll release him when we get Orainne back." As the two knights left to take Dayn away, the others gathered around Arthur, waiting for an explanation.

"How long ago were Caderyn and Orainne taken?" Lancelot asked in growing concern.

"Two nights past."

"And you think the Saxons are responsible?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, turning to Wulflaf with an apologetic look. "Wulflaf, I would not make such accusations lightly, but your man Offa was there when they took Caderyn and he told us what he knew. There is no doubt they were Saxon."

"I will take your scout, and together we will discover the culprits. And they will be punished."

Before Arthur could respond, a flash of movement caught his eye and he turned to see Vanora running towards them, calling his name, tugging one of her children along behind her.

"Arthur! You've got to find them!" she cried, tears running down her face. "Six says that she saw them leave. They left to find Caderyn, she says!"

"Vanora, of what do you speak?" Arthur said, his eyes gazing at her in confusion.

"Hummingbird and Lucan--Six says they left in the night to go find Caderyn!" Arthur closed in eyes in silent prayer for patience and forbearance before he looked at Wulflaf.

"Wulflaf, I'm afraid I'm going to need Tristan to search for the little ones. Can you manage on your own? I can send for another scout, but none are as skilled as Tristan unless the Woads have a scout of their own."

"I will remain here, to help your scout, and I will send Gar ahead to the camp in search of news of your people," Wulflaf replied.

"You don't suppose Hummingbird actually managed to get through your camp's outer perimeter, do you?" Lancelot asked with growing concern.

"She's quite clever--I wouldn't put it past her," Dagonet said slowly. Wulflaf considered for a moment before nodding.

"You speak wisely. I believe a change of plans is necessary--I will begin searching amongst my people for any trace of _Fea Bridd_ and the other child. Gar!" At the sound of his name, Gar separated himself from the other Saxons and came forward, bowing his head respectfully toward Wulflaf.

"Gar, return to the camp, and see what you can find out about the missing knight and the fiery one's woman. _Fea Bridd _and a small boy are missing as well, and it is possible that they are somewhere in the camp--be watchful for them as well. Report back to me by nightfall."

Leofric watched it all, saying nothing, but his mind worked at a frantic pace, as he tried to account for the change in plans. He waited until Gar had left before he slowly backed away, his escape unnoticed by all but one.

* * *

Caderyn came awake instantly when Orainne suddenly gasped, and he jerked as Orainne slid behind him, using the pole and his frame to shield her from the Saxons who had just entered. 

"Ah, look who's awake," one of them said menacingly. "I wager we could have a lot of fun with her," he said with a leer.

"Then you had best prepare yourself for death, because that is all you shall get from that wager."

"And what will you do about it?"

"Nothing. It's not me you'll have to worry about. Her man will kill you if you touch her."

"I don't see her man anywhere. Do you?" the other Saxon said cheekily.

"Perhaps not now, but soon. I know him well, and he will not wait when he discovers she is missing. He'll have your head if you harm her."

"If the other has done his work, her man will not live to see the sunrise. And nothing stands in our way."

"Are you so certain that your man has succeeded?" Caderyn asked, hoping that the man's words were false, even as fear for his friend wormed its way into his heart.

"We shall see." The two Saxons left and Caderyn heaved a sigh of relief, but he knew the peace was short-lived. No doubt the Saxons would return, and when they did, they would bring news of Dayn's fate. For if Dayn was dead, Caderyn knew, there would be nothing stopping the Saxons from having their way with Orainne, and her chances of survival were slim.

"May the gods see you safely here, my friend, and soon," he murmured softly as Orainne cowered behind him, gripping his shoulders fearfully.

* * *

"Arthur, surely we're not going to just sit here and do nothing," Bors said finally, breaking the tense silence that had filled the main hall as they waited for word of their loved ones. 

"Bors, you know as well as I that we cannot charge into the Saxon camp blindly. It would be reckless as well as foolish. We wait for Wulflaf's man to bring us news."

"Well what's taking him so long? My daughter is out there somewhere, and no doubt, Dayn has torn up his cell in the prison garrison out of frustration. We all need to act, Arthur, instead of sitting around here doing nothing."

"No, Bors, I'm sorry. We must wait. But know that I feel your pain and Dayn's as though it were my own."

Bors angrily knocked over a flagon of ale, and stormed from the room, and Arthur looked down wearily. He motioned for Dagonet to follow, and the room fell silent after the echoes of Dagonet's footsteps faded away.

"He's right about Dayn," Lancelot said suddenly. "He's been raging since he awoke. He called me a few choice words before I left, and I'll say, he's none too happy with you, Arthur," he finished wryly.

"I expected such. But there is no help for it--I had no choice. You and I both know what would happen if Dayn were to go after Orainne on his own. The war we are trying so hard to prevent would erupt, and we would be hard-pressed to stop it once it began. We must wait for proof."

"Isn't Offa's word enough proof, Artair?" Lufian asked quietly, his eyes betraying his affront that Arthur would doubt the other Saxon's word.

"For me, it is plenty, Lufian. But others, I fear, would not be so quick to believe it."

"It's because they fear Wulflaf," Drefan threw in. "They fear what he will do to our people."

"I believe Wulflaf has his people's best interests at heart," Arthur said. Gawain snorted, elbowing Tristan in the side.

"Yeah, and Arthur's the _only _one who believes _that_," he murmured. Tristan smirked but said nothing, not caring to comment at the time. Niamh sat on his lap, her head pillowed on his shoulder as she toyed with a strand of his hair, and he was content to stay silent as they waited for news.

"Well, if we have to wait, what's say we wait someplace else? A tavern, perhaps?" Lancelot suggested. Murmurs of assent rose from around the table, and as one, they all stood and made for the door, Arthur shaking his head in amusement as he watched them leave. He stood and made for his chambers, wanting to examine the map of the Saxon camp that Wulflaf had made for him once more while the others passed their time with ale.

Hours passed, and evening fell with still no sign of the two children and no word yet on Caderyn and Orainne. Bors held Vanora close, the rest of their children playing nearby, as they feared to let the rest of their children leave their sight. Drefan was teaching Number Six and Number Nine a game, while Number Ten watched entranced as Lufian carved a small figure out of wood. Wulflaf stood near the door, watching but never a part of the scene, his cold gaze sweeping the room once more before he headed for the door.

Outside, he quickly made his way to the entry of the garrison to wait for Gar, and within moments, Gar appeared out of the fog, striding towards him.

"What have you discovered?" Wulflaf asked as the other man approached him.

"There is no word of _Fea Bridd_ or the boy. And of the two others, no one will speak of it. The camp grows more and more volatile, Wulflaf."

"What's the situation?"

"Unstable. Your hold is tenuous at best, and the Torr are stirring up dissension among the others. It is even worse now, since word of what happened in the woods is known. We killed only traitors, but some of our people don't see it as such. They think you betray your own people to seek favor with Artair. I think Leofric's father wishes to cause strife—he wants your power for himself. If any knows of the whereabouts of the missing, it's that one. He would stop at nothing to see you fall. It will be war before the end, I think."

"A dangerous game he plays. He served at my father's side and thus believes he is entitled to some reward of power. Soon, he will learn the cost of his disobedience."

"You should be cautious, Wulflaf. Surely you realize that with every step you take towards peace with these Britons, you undermine your authority. You're cutting your own throat. And Besyr seeks to force your hand, for well he knows that if you move against him, it could ignite a war."

"If war is what he seeks, then war he shall have," Wulflaf said coldly, a gleam coming into his eye. Wulflaf paused, as he calculated precisely what his next course of action would be before he focused once again on Gar. "There is one who will aid us this night…wait for me here, and do not be seen." Gar nodded and slipped into the shadows as Wulflaf disappeared into the darkness, and he wondered just what Wulflaf had in mind.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so there were several rather short scenes scattered throughout this chapter, but I'm trying to keep including characters, and I thought the scenes added something to the chapter, so I decided to leave them in, despite their shortness. Hope you'll all forgive me. 

Oh, and here's a little bit of factual info that I used for the story: _brond dreca _means fire-dragon. Both words are Anglo-Saxon, but I put them together myself, so I have no idea if they're grammatically correct. Tyr is a Norse god of honorable battle, while Odin is known as the god of berserker rage. Cool huh, and doesn't it just fit so perfectly with Dayn? Anyways, email me if you want to know where I got the info from.

**chiefhow**: You were right, of course—Dayn was definitely pissed that they took Orainne. As far as Wulflaf goes, I'm trying to give insight into his past slowly—just hints that won't give things away too soon. And since I don't see him just telling everyone, he gets to continue being something of a mysterious guy who treats people however he wants. So, I'm curious who you like better—Dayn or Wulflaf?

**Artemis Darkclaw**: I included a few more Norse gods in this chapter, so I hope you like those references as well. As for Sin City, I had not seen it at the time, but I was able to watch it later and I saw what you meant about the Valkyrie bit. Cool. I got a laugh out of Chuck Norris as Wulflaf, let me tell you. Somehow I can't picture Norris as anything other than "Walker: Texas Ranger," so it's really hard to imagine him as a Wulflaf.

**Just a Fan**: I hope you were as excited to see this chapter as you were the last chapter. I had so much fun reading your review—it made me laugh. Shit a brick, indeed. Did Dayn's reaction live up to your expectations? Anyways, keep reviewing for me, and I'll try to get chapters up faster!

**dagg**: Yeah, Dayn will pretty much remain the oblivious killer throughout this fic, because I don't exactly see him as a character who has a sudden epiphany and changes his personality. Sometimes it works, but I don't see it working for Dayn. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed his little musings on the subject with Lufian.

**dmitchell**: I was really touched by the concern you showed for my fics. I'll plan to keep going, because I would hate to disappoint you. You know, I think you're one of the only people who actually looks at my URL for update info. I'm glad you do, though, because it's nice to know that I'm not writing the update info for nothing. Anyways, I'm glad you love my fics so much, and thanks for the note.


	8. Chapter 8: A Demon Unleashed

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry for any grammatical errors--I think I found them all, but I can't be absolutely sure, because I didn't make use of a beta. Anyways, please read and review. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 8: A Demon Unleashed

Though Dayn had long since stilled, on the inside, he was raging. Thoughts swirled in his mind as he worried about what could be happening to Orainne. His fists clenched and he fought the impulse to slam them into the stone wall at his back. _If anything happens to her, I'll never forgive Arthur. Never. And I'll kill Lance for doing this to me. _An overturned plate of food lay in front of the door, untouched since Dayn had thrown it back at the door. The meager furnishings of the cell were scattered on the floor where Dayn had left them after throwing them at the cell walls.

Hearing a thud outside the heavy wooden door of the garrison prison, Dayn looked up from where he was crouched in the corner, his hand reaching for a shard of the bench he had shattered earlier. His ears strained to distinguish what he was hearing, as he suspiciously noted how much it sounded like a body hitting the ground. His eyes narrowed on the door as he prepared to lunge at whoever came in, and the familiar anger licked at his insides, warming him as his body tightened in anticipation of a fight.

The door creaked open, but the shadow of night was too thick for him to see who stood there, and he tensed as he strained to penetrate the darkness.

"Lance, if that's you, I'll see you hurting before I leave this world," he said heatedly.

"Do not mistake me for your fellow Sarmatian," a cold voice spoke from the darkness. Something flew through the air and fell before him, and Dayn looked down to see his gauntlets and dagger lying at his feet. He scooped them up before taking a step closer to the door.

"Wulflaf?"

"Come, dragon-warrior, our time is short."

"Time for what?" Dayn asked suspiciously.

"We have matters to attend to this night, you and I."

"What sort of matters?" Dayn asked with growing exasperation. "Stop feeding me cryptic horse dung and tell me what you mean!"

"I have a proposition for you—you help me with some troublesome foes, and I help you get your woman back."

"You'll help me find Orainne simply for killing some of your men for you? That's too easy—what's the catch?"

"There is no catch. I simply have need of your skill, as you have need of mine. It is a simple proposition. Do you accept?"

"Yes."

"Come, we must fetch your sword. I did not know where it was to bring it to you."

"Gawain took it. No doubt he placed it in my quarters."

"Lead the way. But stick to the shadows." As the two left the prison cell, Dayn looked questioningly at Wulflaf.

"I take it Arthur knows nothing of this?"

"No. Nor does he need to."

"He's going to be pissed," Dayn remarked mildly.

"Artair is not my king," Wulflaf said indifferently. "I need not inform him of my affairs."

"He fears war will result if we move against your people."

"War should not be feared, _brond dreca_. It should be met gladly, for it may bring one the honor of killing enemies or dying a glorious death."

"You don't fear death, then?"

"No. I will gladly embrace my death when it comes."

"Why?"

Wulflaf was silent for a long moment, and Dayn began to wonder if he wouldn't answer, but then Wulflaf suddenly grabbed him and pulled him to a stop.

"If you love your woman, keep her close by your side, for if you were to lose her, there is nothing in this world that will compensate for your loss." The intensity in his voice gave Dayn pause, and as Wulflaf released him and started walking once more, Dayn thought better of pursuing that line of questioning and instead went back to his earlier question.

"So, the reason you fight without care or remorse is because you don't fear death?"

"Partly," Wulflaf answered, not elaborating further on his answer further. "Your brothers, they should not fear death, either. Better to be dead than to serve a master like the Romans."

"When a man's loved ones are at stake, it is not so easy as that."

"That is why it is best to be alone. Your ancestors would have been the better to have considered that. Instead, they enslaved not only themselves but their children as well. _That_ is unforgivable. You own sons will share your plight, _brond dreca_."

"Over my dead and rotting corpse," Dayn said menacingly. "I will fight the entire Roman Empire before I let those dogs take any sons of mine. And if I have to come back from the Underworld to do it, then so be it. Besides," he said, his tone lightening considerably all of a sudden as he continued, "I'm no doubt already a fugitive in Roman eyes. What's one more crime added on?"

Before he could go on, Wulflaf suddenly jerked him back, shoving him into the shadows of a dark corner as Lancelot and Gawain lumbered by rather drunkenly. They watched the two knights pass out of sight before Wulflaf gave him a dark look.

"You should be more cautious—it would not do to be seen." Dayn shrugged, giving Wulflaf a sheepish grin.

"Sorry. I'm used to being alone when I'm up to something. I usually do a much better job of staying hidden." He grinned, and Wulflaf shook his head ruefully before gesturing to Dayn to lead on.

After their close call, Dayn wasted no more time in getting to his sword. It was exactly where he thought it would be, and he made quick work of strapping it on. He threw on a darker cloak, slowing as he noticed the small clay jar of woad sitting on a low table by the bed. With a grim smile, he pried the lid off the jar and dipped his fingers into it, crossing to the bowl of tepid water sitting nearby.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing for battle," Dayn said with a cold grin. Using the water as a mirror, Dayn swirled the woad onto his face, pausing to stare at his reflection before he finally returned the jar to its place and turned to face Wulflaf once more. "I'll lead the way. I know how to get out of the garrison without being seen."

"No, Gar awaits my return at the South Gate. Get out of the garrison however you can and I will meet you at the North Gate," Wulflaf told him firmly. Dayn nodded, and the two split up, Dayn taking to the rooftops as Wulflaf headed to the other side of the garrison to speak with Gar. The dark-haired Saxon waited where Wulflaf had left him, crouched on the ground with his back braced against the Wall as he waited for Wulflaf to return.

"We move now," Wulflaf said, stepping out of shadow to stand before his warrior. Gar came to his feet instantly, looking behind Wulflaf expectantly.

"I thought you went to retrieve someone who will aid us this night."

"Yes. He will meet me outside the North Gate. We'll move out from there. You will go ahead of us, infiltrate the Torr camp, and wait for us there. It will be easier if we do not move in as a group." Gar nodded and hurried away to follow Wulflaf's orders.

Wulflaf watched him go, giving him a few moments to get ahead before he turned and headed quickly for the North Gate to meet Dayn. When he reached the North Gate, no one was there, and Wulflaf sighed impatiently, wondering where the Sarmatian was.

Before he could muse on it further, however, Dayn dropped down in front of him, having taken refuge in a tree there while he waited for the Saxon.

"Did you find your man?"

"Yes."

"Good, then let's go!" Dayn said impatiently, vibrating with anticipation. _It would appear that a lack of patience is something the dragon-warrior and I have in common,_ Wulflaf thought with mild detachment before he nodded.

As they reached the outskirts of the Saxon camp, Wulflaf halted Dayn with a firm hand on his arm, turning Dayn to face him.

"When we reach our destination within the camp, spare no one. Kill who you will, it matters not."

"Then I must ask something of you," Dayn said, staring back at him with haunted eyes.

"Ask it then, and I will do what I can."

"When the goddess takes me, I know not what I do. You have to make sure I don't get near Orainne. Protect her from me, no matter the cost."

Wulflaf stared at him for a long moment before he nodded, and Dayn felt his heart ease somewhat.

"If she's been killed, Wulflaf…don't try to stop me," Dayn said softly, an eerie light in his eyes as he pulled his sword from its sheath. With a cold smile playing on his lips, Wulflaf pulled his own sword and followed him into the heart of the Torr camp.

* * *

Caderyn had lapsed into an uneasy sleep, with Orainne's head pillowed on his lap, before something woke him. His eyes opened, searching the darkness for what disturbed him, before realizing it was the silence. An uncanny silence had fallen over the camp, as though all the earth was frozen in wait. 

_Goddess of Fortune, let no danger come to us, now. Not while I'm defenseless._ As he looked down at Orainne's sleeping form, he felt a wave of protectiveness that rivaled Dayn's. He thought back on that day so many years ago, when he had once tried to explain to Dayn why women were such a treasure. Dayn hadn't understood then, but Caderyn knew without a doubt that he did now. _She is a treasure worthy of the gods, my friend. You really should look after her better_, he thought with a rueful smile. Unable to sleep anymore, he leaned his head back wearily. "It shouldn't be much longer now," he murmured softly.

He glanced back down at Orainne, noticing suddenly that she looked a little thicker around the middle.

"No, surely not…" he said nervously. He stared closely at her for a long moment, before shaking his head. _As though I don't have enough trouble keeping Orainne safe, you have to add your child to the mix, Dayn. Only you would conspire with the gods to make my life more difficult,_ he thought ruefully. He felt a mounting panic well up inside him at the thought that he not only had Orainne to protect, but her and Dayn's child as well. _Granted, the child was here all along, but I felt better when I didn't know about it._

"Pray to whatever gods you worship, Orainne, that it is Dayn who is coming for us and not the Saxons," he whispered._ Because there's no doubt in my mind that someone _is _coming for us this night._

* * *

"This is a really big camp, Lucan," Hummingbird said tiredly, looking at Lucan sadly. 

"Maybe we should turn back," Lucan suggested softly with a shrug.

"But we can't. Not until we find Caderyn and Orainne," Hummingbird said resolutely. "But let's take a break first," she finished, and Lucan nodded gratefully. After searching the camp for what seemed like hours, hiding in shadows, the two children were exhausted, and both were grateful for the brief respite. She led Lucan towards the deeper shadows between two darkened tents, sure that they would be well hidden there from any watchful eyes.

"This sure is hard, Hummingbird," Lucan said hopelessly.

"I never said it would be easy," Hummingbird replied smartly.

"Well, what if we turned back and got some help. I bet Dagonet would help us."

"Don't be stupid, Lucan, we can't go back now! Besides, if we go back without Caderyn, then we'll get in trouble. But if we find him, everyone will be so glad that we found him, that they won't be mad at us," she reasoned.

"But what if we can't find him?"

"We will, don't worry! I'm a good finder, Lucan. Don't I always win when we play hide-n-seek?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

"What have we got here?" Hummingbird turned, Lucan bumping into her as he jumped back from the Saxon who had come up behind them. The man's harsh Saxon words meant nothing to Hummingbird, but she knew that whatever he was saying wasn't friendly.

She shoved Lucan hard, yelling for him to run even as she put on a burst of speed herself. She felt the man's arm go around her waist, and she gasped even as Lucan stopped and turned back to look at her.

"Run, Lucan! Go get help!" Lucan's tear-filled eyes gazed at her for a second more before he turned and dodged back into the shadows, even as Hummingbird struggled against the large Saxon who held her. She kicked at him with her feet, and he dropped her to the ground in surprise. She jumped to her feet, starting to run after Lucan, but the Saxon suddenly grabbed her by the hair.

Hummingbird screamed, and her hand, as though by instinct, went to the dagger under her cloak. Even as the Saxon jerked her towards him, she was sliding the dagger from the scabbard and with a sudden thrust, she rammed the dagger into his stomach, putting all of her weight behind the strike. The Saxon's eyes widened, releasing his grip on her as he slowly fell to the ground, his hands on the wound in his abdomen. Hummingbird stood there, trembling, and tears filled her eyes as she watched the blood pooling on the ground.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, the tears dripping from her face. "I didn't mean to," she murmured as she started to cry in earnest. She sat down a few feet away, hugging her knees to her chest as she slowly started to rock back and forth as she watched the blood staining the ground before her.

* * *

"We split up, here. We'll work our way from the outer perimeter into the very heart of the camp, and Gar will meet us there. If we use stealth to our advantage, they will never know we were here. Can you control your rage long enough for us to infiltrate their camp?" Wulflaf asked, his eyes drilling into Dayn's. 

"If we're keeping this quiet, going after just one or two at a time, then yes, I can control it. But if we're attacked from all sides by many foes, well…no."

"Have you ever gone after enemies silently in the dead of night before, without the chaos of battle?"

"Of course. How else would I have been able to kill my share of Romans over the years?" Dayn replied with a grin. "Let's go, now—my woman is waiting."

"I'll go left. You go right, and we'll meet back in the center. Maintain secrecy for as long as you can."

"I think you'll know if I'm discovered," Dayn said playfully, pulling the hood of his cloak up around his face. He tightened his grip on his sword and turned away from Wulflaf before the Saxon could reply. Within moments, he reached the first tent in his path, and with a grin, he ducked silently inside. The slumbering Saxons within didn't even have time to reach for their weapons before Dayn had dispatched them.

"Give my regards to your god of death," Dayn said with a cold smile. And so it went for an hour, as both Dayn and Wulflaf worked their way towards the center of the camp.

* * *

"Arthur!" 

Arthur's head jerked up in alarm as Dagonet came barreling through the door, his eyes wide, his face worried.

"What is it, Dagonet?"

"Dayn's gone," Dagonet told him in a low voice.

"What? How?"

"Don't know. The guard says he doesn't know what happened. Someone hit him from behind, he says. Dayn didn't just escape, Arthur. Somebody helped him."

"But who would release him? They must know that no good will come of it," Arthur said, shaking his head in confusion.

"I don't know. But whoever did it just let loose a demon on the Saxons," Dagonet said, his eyes meeting Arthur's grimly.

"Gather the others. I fear before this night is through that it will be war."

* * *

Gar fought the urge to unsheathe his sword as he walked boldly through the Torr camp. No one would move against him, he knew, until Wulflaf and Dayn's actions were discovered, and though the few Saxons who were moving about at this time of night glanced at him strangely, no one approached him. _Their mistake_, Gar thought with a grin. He changed direction, moving between two tents, only to draw up short when he saw a familiar figure crouched on the ground near a Saxon with a dagger in his gut. 

"_Fea Bridd_," he said softly, and Hummingbird's face lifted, and she threw herself at him with a sob. He wrapped his arms around her, as his eyes went from her bloodstained hands to the familiar dagger in the Saxon.

"I didn't mean to, Gar, but he was gonna hurt us!" she sobbed, and he found himself soothing the little girl, murmuring softly into her ear as he rocked her back and forth in his arms. Such comforting behavior wasn't part of his nature, but somehow, it was surprisingly easy to console her.

As he held her, he stooped down next to the body and pulled the dagger out, wiping it easily on the fallen man's tunic before he offered it back to her.

"I don't want it anymore," she said softly.

"This dagger protected you, _fea bridd_, and you would do well to keep it by your side. Take it." The little girl reached out with trembling fingers to take the dagger back, sliding it back into the scabbard under her cloak before tightening her grip on Gar, her small arms tight around his neck as she buried her face in his neck.

"Where is your friend, _fea bridd_?" he asked, carrying her into the deeper shadows close to the tents.

"I told him to run for help," she whispered. "I don't know where he is anymore."

"We will find him then," he said. "But first, we need to hide this man. We need more time, and we won't get that time if he is discovered here." He set her on her feet and heaved the man onto his shoulders with a grunt. He carried him over to one of the tents, Hummingbird holding onto the hem of his tunic. "Peek inside this tent, _fea bridd_, and see if there is anyone inside." Hummingbird nodded and slowly lifted up a corner of the tent flap, her eyes peering inside fearfully, before she pulled away and looked up at Gar.

"It's empty," she whispered. Nodding, Gar bent down and entered the tent, Hummingbird at his heels. He laid the body on a pile of furs inside and covered him with another fur before he crouched down in front of Hummingbird, opening his arms. She walked into them, wrapping her arms around his neck once more, and a wave of protectiveness swept him as he stood.

"We will find your friend, now, little one, and then I will take you back to your father. Which way did the boy run?"

She lifted her head, gazing around silently for a moment before pointing towards the east.

"We go east, then." He hoped silently that Wulflaf didn't need him, because he had his hands full with a six-year-old girl and a missing boy.

* * *

Dayn had quit wiping his sword clean long ago, and he could feel sweat pouring down his face and arms. And still there was no sign of Orainne. He stepped out a tent, gazing around warily before he moved toward another one. 

"_Brond dreca_, I have found your woman and the missing Sarmatian." He spun to face Wulflaf who was motioning him toward a tent. Dayn pushed the tent flap aside and charged inside, relief filling him at the sight of Orainne curled up at Caderyn's side, Caderyn looking up at him with relief of his own.

"What took you so long?" he asked, as Dayn hurried forward.

"Well, there was the small matter of Arthur having me thrown into the garrison prison, not to mention Lancelot knocking me over the head with the hilt of his sword," Dayn said easily.

Orainne's eyes fluttered open at the sound of Dayn's voice, and she leaped into his arms with a happy cry. Dayn held her tightly in his arms, his fear for her safety melting away at the feel of her against him.

"I'm sorry, love," he said softly. "I shouldn't have left you alone, unprotected."

"It's alright. You're here now, and that's all that matters," she said softly, holding him close. Wulflaf had taken that opportunity to cut Caderyn free and Dayn turned to look at Caderyn with serious eyes.

"Caderyn, you kept her safe for me, and I can never repay you for that. But now I must ask you to watch over her for a little longer. I gave Wulflaf my word that I would help him, and I must keep my word."

"Dayn, I--I don't know how well I can fight. This wound still pains me more than I care to say. I'm not sure I can protect her."

"Brother, I trust you with her life as I would my own. You will keep her safe," Dayn told him solemnly, and Caderyn was touched by the certainty on Dayn's face and the trust shining in his eyes. "Do this for me, please, Cade." He was silent as Caderyn mulled over his words, holding his breath as Caderyn opened his mouth to reply.

"I'll need a weapon," Caderyn said with a smile slowly blossoming on his face, and Dayn clapped him on the shoulder with a grin.

"Here, have this one," he said, pulling a spare sword from his scabbard. "I took it from one of the Saxons I killed tonight." He turned away and looked down into Orainne's face. "Orainne, listen to me. I want you to stay here with Caderyn until I return. I have to help him before we return to the Wall."

Orainne nodded, never questioning him, and he bent his head and kissed her fully. He rested his cheek on the top of her head for a moment, even as she rested hers against his chest. With a sigh, he pulled away from her, and she stepped back reluctantly.

"I'll return soon," he said softly, and she smiled sadly as Dayn followed Wulflaf back out into the night.

"We must move quickly now, _brond dreca_. We have to move against Besyr and Leofic before anyone discovers us," Wulflaf said abruptly.

"Sunrise will be upon us soon--we should act now. Lead the way." With a grim smile, Wulflaf nodded and led Dayn deeper and deeper into the Torr camp.

* * *

Dayn and Wulflaf crouched down in the dissipating shadows near Besyr's tent, Dayn looking at Wulflaf expectantly, wondering why they weren't moving in for the kill. 

"The fires are lit--they are awake, and will not be easily taken."

"That just means that it will be more fun to fight them," Dayn said, his eyes filled with mirth.

"Do not underestimate them. Besyr and his warriors are seasoned fighters and will not be so easily killed."

"Let them do their worst, Wulf. I'm not worried," Dayn replied with a grin, his eyes once more taking on an eerie sort of glow.

Wulflaf nodded, tightening his grip on his sword before he stepped out of the shadows and boldly strolled forward with Dayn at his side, their swords stained red with the blood of Wulflaf's foes.

"Ah, Wulflaf, I knew you would come, but I did not think you would be so foolish as to come with only one warrior at your side." Wulflaf stepped into the tent clearing, leveling a cold, indifferent stare on Leofric's father, Besyr, who sat before the fire with a smirk. Standing around him were fourteen Saxon warriors, some of the best, Wulflaf knew, but he was never one to worry.

"Is he the one?" Dayn asked. "The one who took Caderyn and my woman?"

"He was behind it, yes," Wulflaf replied, his eyes never leaving Besyr. "And Leofric, of course."

"You knew Leofric was conspiring against you, and yet, you did nothing?" Dayn asked in disbelief.

"The time was not right. But now…now, the moment has come. Where is your son, Besyr?" A thick silence settled over everyone as Wulflaf's gaze bored into Besyr, who refused to answer.

"Trying to sneak up behind us," Dayn said suddenly, his sword arcing around in a blur of motion as he brought it down onto Leofric's head. An axe slipped from Leofric's hands as he fell heavily to the ground, his skull cleaved nearly in two.

"No! You Sarmatian cur!" Besyr yelled. The warriors surged forward, and Dayn bared his teeth in the semblance of a smile before he released a demonic yell and charged the warriors. Wulflaf smiled coldly before joining him, careful not to get too close to Dayn.

Dayn felt something release inside him as he ran at the Saxons, freeing all of his rage, and he reveled in it. He felt as though someone else fought with him, urging him on even as he recognized distantly the carnage he was causing. His sword flashed through the air, and blood splattered as he pushed his way forward, ancient Celtic words flowing from his mouth in a terrifying bellow that sent chills down Wulflaf's spine.

Besyr hurled himself at Wulflaf, bringing Leofric's axe to bear on Wulflaf, who countered the blow with a parry of his sword. Besyr's fury-filled eyes flashed as he swung the axe again, and Wulflaf just barely brought his sword up in time to block it. Besyr put his weight behind the axe, attempting to force Wulflaf to his knees with sheer force of weight, and Wulflaf grunted as he struggled to stand against the heavier man. Narrowing his eyes, Wulflaf used Besyr's weight against him, sidestepping so that Besyr stumbled. And in that moment, Wulflaf struck, his sword plunging into Besyr from behind.

Wulflaf stepped back, breathing heavily, uncertain that Besyr's death would result in the Torr tribe submitting without subsequent fighting. He turned to face the remaining warriors, not surprised to see more of the Torr joining the fray. Dayn was cutting into them without restraint, his eyes appearing to take on a red sheen as he slashed his way with brute force through the Saxons as though they were mere annoyances. Wulflaf watched him with a discerning eye, noting Dayn's fighting style. _He lacks a certain artfulness, but then, it does not appear that he needs it. _

Wulflaf considered trying to halt the fighting--perhaps after so many warriors had been killed they would be willing to follow Wulflaf--but he just as quickly discarded the idea as he watched warriors continue to throw themselves at Dayn in vain attempts to stop him. _No. By all appearances, stopping him would be difficult._ He shrugged. _It is of little consequence. If he kills them all, it matters not. It simply means the other tribes will be much less willing to question me._ Nodding to himself, he waded back into the fray, careful to keep his distance from Dayn. _Let them come,_ he thought fiendishly as Torr continued to spill into the clearing.

As the sun rose, dissipating the darkness, the fighting ceased, all of the Torr having either fled or been killed. When Dayn finally subsided, he was swaying with weariness as his muscles began to burn with fatigue. Blood and sweat dripped off him as he looked up to see Wulflaf staring cautiously at him.

"You are yourself again, _brond dreca_?"

"Yeah. Let's go get my woman and Caderyn," he said, and Wulflaf moved forward to help him as he stumbled. "Hey, where was your man? He never showed."

"Because I've been searching for a small boy for several hours. I found _Fea Bridd_." Dayn and Wulflaf turned to see Gar approaching, Hummingbird in his arms.

"Hummingbird?" Dayn said, and she looked up at him.

"We can't find Lucan, Dayn, and we've been looking for him all over," she said sadly.

"What are you doing here?"

"We were looking for Caderyn. But then, that man came, and he was going to hurt us, and then I told Lucan to run, and I killed that man," she whispered.

Dayn looked at Gar questioningly, and Gar nodded, confirming what she said.

"I didn't mean to kill him, Dayn," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Is Papa going to be mad at me?"

"I think he would be proud of you for protecting yourself," Dayn said softly.

"We need to find the boy," Wulflaf announced, and both Gar and Dayn nodded.

"Dayn!" Hearing his name, they all looked up to see Arthur and the other knights riding up. Dayn stabbed his sword into the ground as he waited for Arthur to reach them, his eyes boldly meeting Arthur's.

"Papa!" Hummingbird yelled, running for her father, who jumped off his horse to catch her up in his arms. Bors kissed the top of her head and thanked the gods for keeping her safe once more before he set her up on his horse. Meanwhile, Arthur dismounted, his eyes both angry and horrified at what he saw.

"What have you done here, Dayn?" Arthur asked in dismay as he gazed around at the bodies littering the ground.

"I found my woman and took care of those who stole her from me," he answered, gesturing grandly behind him.

"Dayn, your actions here this day could very well start a war that we can't win!" Arthur shouted angrily. "You were irresponsible, and now we will all suffer the consequences!"

"Don't speak to me of responsibility, Arthur! If you had kept Orainne safe, none of this would have happened!"

"So you start a war to spite me!"

"Artair, let there be peace between you," Wulflaf said, stepping between the two. "I brought Dayn here. We struck a bargain, he and I, and now the bargain is fulfilled. These men opposed the peace between our peoples, and now, they are no longer an obstacle. There can be talk of this later. For now, I suggest we find the missing boy."

"Very well. We will speak of this later," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "Tristan," he called over his shoulder, and the scout rode forward. "We need to find Lucan."

"We have a better chance of finding him if we knew where Hummingbird last saw him," Tristan pointed out.

"I know where they were together last. It was where _Fea Bridd_ killed a Saxon."

"My daughter killed a Saxon?" Bors asked, a shocked expression on his face.

"Yes, with the dagger she won from me."

"Dagger she won? What have you Saxons been teaching her?" he asked gruffly, though he looked over at Hummingbird with pride on his face. "That's my Eight. She's feisty, a fighter just like me," he said proudly. "Only six years old, and already killed a Saxon," he bragged.

"Bors, focus please," Arthur said tiredly. "Gar, if you can show Tristan where you found Hummingbird, he might could track Lucan from there."

"Wulflaf," Dagonet spoke up, "if you take Tristan, Gar, Arthur, and myself with you to find Lucan, the others can go with Dayn to get Caderyn and Orainne."

"Take Lance with you, Dagonet," Dayn broke in hotly. "Don't think I've forgotten that it was you who knocked me senseless, Lance!" he said loudly, turning an angry glare on Lancelot, who simply shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Dayn, there's no time for this. You can settle your issues with Lancelot later," Dagonet said firmly. Dayn's jaw tightened in anger, but he didn't force the issue, knowing Dagonet was worried about the little boy.

"I'm going back for Caderyn and Orainne. Who's with me?" Dayn asked.

"I will," Gawain said. "Bors?"

"Yeah, I'm with you."

"That leaves the rest of you to come with us," Gar said.

"After you fetch the others, head back to the Wall. We'll meet you there when we have Lucan," Arthur directed. "Oh, and someone should reassure Offa and Sæthryth that the peace between our peoples is secure for now," he finished. "Go now."

Dayn, Bors, Hummingbird, and Gawain made quick work of fetching Caderyn and Orainne from the tent where they waited, and the six of them made their way gratefully back to the Wall. Hours later, the others returned with an exhausted Lucan, who Hummingbird met with gusto as they arrived.

"Lucan!" She ran toward him, having refused to budge from the gate until Lucan was found. She hugged him happily, a hug which he returned just as happily.

"We won't do that again, Lucan, I promise!" she said earnestly. He smiled and nodded in agreement.

"That's right, you won't," Bors said. "Because if you two do something like that again, the Saxons will be the least of your worries, because I'll kill you myself."

As Vanora led both children to the baths, Bors turned to see Arthur, Tristan, Lancelot, Dagonet, and the two Saxons standing there looking on in varying degrees of amusement.

"That girl of mine, she's going to drive me mad before she's ten."

"Bors, that girl of yours is going to drive us _all_ mad before she's ten," Lancelot said, looking at Bors from the corner of his eye.

"She's like Dayn all over again," Dagonet said, "Just without the temper." They were all silent as they considered Dagonet's words before finally laughing, stress bleeding away with every chuckle.

"Keep her away from Dayn, Bors," Lancelot said, clapping Bors on the shoulder.

"Artair, I must return to my camp," Wulflaf interrupted. "There will be repercussions after what happened last night, and I have to see to my people. The tribes are unstable, and if I am not careful, they will fall."

"Will the peace hold, Wulflaf?" Arthur asked him worriedly, the knights falling silent as they waited for Wulflaf's answer.

"We shall see, Artair, we shall see."

* * *

A/N: Ok, so I hope 13 pages makes up for the incredibly long wait I put you all through. I've worked on finishing this one all day, just so you all wouldn't have to wait any longer. Hope you'll forgive me for the wait!

**chiefhow**: So, what do you think? Did I do Dayn justice in the revenge department? Let me know. Oh, btw, I think I finally figured out who Dayn looks like. Do you watch that show "Prison Break"? I don't, but I've seen pictures, and the young, good-looking guy on there is who I picture Dayn looking like now. Just thought I'd share. I'm still on the look-out for a Wulflaf.

**Just a fan**: How did you like Dayn's actions in this one? Was it similar to what you pictured Dayn doing? Thanks for reading and reviewing for me, because I always get a warm, happyfeeling and often laughter from your reviews. Hope you'll review this one, too!

**Camreyn**: I try to let Caderyn keep his sense of humor despite everything that happens to him, so I'm glad you enjoyed his lines from the last chapter. I think I tied up a lot of the loose ends that you were wondering about in the last chapter. Lancelot and Dayn have one of those sort of love-hate relationships. They'll do anything for each other, but yet, they fight like bitter enemies sometimes. It's a guy thing, because I don't see girl characters acting that way. Anyways, let me know what you think, ok!

**ModestySparrow9**: Yes, it has been awhile, hasn't it? It gets harder and harder to find time to read, write, and review fics. I'm on Christmas Break now, though, so I've finally gotten time to do this. I wrote 7 pages just today. Hopefully, I'll start working on the next chapter of my LOTR fic.Thanks so much for your compliment--it'sgood for the ego when someone tells you that you writesome of the best stories--I'm so touched!Sorry about your computer troubles! And maybe with a break from everything, you'll be able to get back to fanfic like you want. Don't be sad! Just keep a notebook with you all the time so you can handwrite anywhere you go. You can always type it up later. Anyways, review if you can!

**dmitchell**: MS in Accounting, huh? I'm so horrible with anything involving numbers. I'm lucky if I can add and subtract simple numbers in my head. That's why I'm an English major-lol! Good luck with your MS, and thanks for wishing meluck on my MA. I've got several semesters left, having only just finished my first semester. Anyways, thanks for reviewing for me. Hope you'll review this chapter, too! I'm shameless when it comes to asking for reviews--lol.


	9. Chapter 9: A Clever Proposal

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Sorry once again for the long wait. It's cruel of me to make you all wait, but hopefully, I'll have more time this summer to get chapters out faster. Anyways, despite the fact that I've made you all wait so long, please read and review for me!

Chapter 9: A Clever Proposal

Arthur found the following days stressful as he was plagued by worry of how the Saxons would respond to the destruction that Dayn and Wulflaf had single-handedly caused by their attack on the Torr tribe. Dayn's role in the slaughter had increased the tension considerably, as many of the Saxons were convinced that Dayn's aid was proof that the Britons and Sarmatians were all toowilling to interfere in Saxon affairs. The suspicion was clearly beginning to cause problems, and Arthur was hard-pressed to find a solution. _It seems as if another war with the Saxons is imminent, _he thought wearily, his heart heavy at the thought.

"Dayn has no notion of the damage he's done," he said aloud, venting his frustration with an angry sigh. Lancelot looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the table sharpening a dagger, cocking his eyebrow at Arthur's words.

"He seldom does, Arthur," he replied sardonically. "Why does it surprise you?"

"You're right of course. Sometimes I question why I gave him a sword."

"Arthur, I question that everyday."

"We have no choice, Lancelot. We must send for Wulflaf—something must be done if we are to prevent war from breaking out once more."

"Do you have a plan then?"

"No. I'm hoping that Wulflaf will know of some way we can bring peace to our peoples."

At the other side of the table, Gawain came to his feet, placing the axe he'd been sharpening down as he walked towards Arthur and Lancelot.

"Arthur, are you so sure that peace is what he really wants?" he asked with obvious mistrust in his eyes.

"Do you still doubt him, Gawain, after all that he's done for us?"

"I'm sorry, Arthur, but he's a Saxon. Have you ever known of a Saxon who didn't have an agenda? Wulflaf, for all the aid he has given us, is still a Saxon, and he's already proved he's not above subterfuge to get what he wants. He enlisted Dayn to help him kill those who opposed him. It seems to me that Wulflaf could very well have set up the kidnapping just to garner Dayn's help in gaining control."

"You have given this much thought, Gawain. But now, I don't see as we have much choice. We have to trust that he works for peace as we do. Suspicion will get us nowhere."

"Perhaps. But I don't have to like it," Gawain finished firmly, crossing his arms over his chest resolutely.

"Arthur, do you want me to send for Wulflaf?" Lancelot broke in, no doubt attempting to ease the tension between the two men.

"Yes, please."

"It's your funeral," Gawain replied solemnly before he turned away and headed for the door, leaving his axe resting on the table.

"Let us pray that he's wrong," Arthur murmured softly as he watched the long-haired knight disappear through the door.

* * *

Offa lay on his bed, his mind wandering drowsily as he listened peacefully to the soft murmuring of healers, patients, and visitors alike. Outside, he could hear the muted laughter of children, no doubt _Fea Bridd _and one of her many companions. He allowed a smile to cross his face as he imagined the little girl running amok throughout the garrison. 

"Offa."

With a sigh, Offa slowly opened his eyes to see Wulflaf walking towards him with grim resolve in his expression.

"What is it?" he asked, slowly sitting up as concern grew in him at the look on Wulflaf's face.

"I must speak with you."

"Of what?"

"Artair. He worries that fighting between his people and ours will erupt again."

"You think him foolish for these fears?" Offa asked speculatively as he caught the barely concealed disdain in Wulflaf's voice.

"Yes."

"Perhaps you should try to allay his fears, my lord. The situation here is unstable at best. Your authority remains questionable by many—we can't afford to return to our own lands until you have secured your power. And you know as well as I that if you don't act on Artair's fears, what he dreads may well come to pass. Our people are not known for their restraint—they will fight before long."

"And how do you propose I prevent that from happening?" Wulflaf asked, frustration lacing his voice as he stared down at Offa. "Because obviously, our usual option is out of the question. Slavery will not work here."

"Of course not. And it is apparent that a mere promise of peace will not be enough to prevent rebellion among the tribes."

At that moment, Sæthryth walked in, carrying a bowl of water to the table at Offa's bedside. As Wulflaf watched her approach, he saw her glance at the Sarmatian who lay resting nearby before approaching Offa and Wulflaf, her head bowed submissively. As she retreated, Wulflaf's eyes narrowed thoughtfully before he turned abruptly back to Offa. "Perhaps I have a solution after all," he said with a hint of a smile.

* * *

Despite his worry, Arthur allowed a smile to cross his face as he looked around the table and beheld his knights coming together once again. It seemed as though ages had passed since he'd seen his men, his friends, gathered together in peace at the Round Table. Granted, half of them were laden with bandages underneath their clothing, the number of wounds considerable after the numerous battles they'd fought, but none of that mattered to Arthur. Battered and bruised as they may be, just having them present was enough for him. 

Guenevere and Merlin were there as well, and though it was still unnerving to have Merlin seated next to him, Arthur was glad to see him, because he knew it meant that peace was possible.

"So, Dayn, when were you going to tell all of us about the babe you've got on the way?" Bors said abruptly, looking up from his ale to level Dayn with a piercing stare.

"Well there hasn't exactly been a good time, Bors. Between the Romans leaving, the Saxons invading, and people disappearing, when was I supposed to tell you?" Dayn retorted, his face relaxing into a lazy smile as everyone laughed.

"You as a father, Dayn--now, that's truly frightening," Gawain said jokingly.

"Well, if Bors can do it, anyone can," Dayn replied with grin.

"I have to say, Dayn, I can't wait to see all of the childhood sins you inflicted upon us returned to you," Lancelot said dryly, his mouth twisted in a sardonic grin. "You put us through considerable hell, and I for one, will enjoy seeing you suffer as we did."

"He kept us on our guard, that's for damn sure,"Caderyn said with a laugh.

"And yet he still managed to get past us—we never knew what he'd be up to," Lancelot replied, shaking his head ruefully.

"You don't know how true that is, Lancelot," Dagonet said with a sudden grin. "If you only knew how many times I managed to catch him before causing some sort of trouble. And you probably don't want to know how much of it centered around you. I certainly saved you from much of his mischief, because, no doubt, you never would have seen it coming otherwise."

"You ruined a lot of my best plans, Dag," Dayn said affectionately, sparing a mischievous glance for Lancelot.

"Yeah, well, thank the gods I caught you before you poisoned him like you did Jarek."

"What!" Lancelot exclaimed, his eyes widening with a measure of alarm.

"I knew it!" Gawain crowed, slapping his hand down on the table. "I've wondered about that ever since," he said with a shake of his head. "Damn, he was sicker than anyone I've ever seen. How did you do it?" he asked with a look of admiration on his face. BeforeDayn could respond, the door was thrown open, and Hummingbird ran in with a happy smile, dragging Orainne behind her.

"Wulflaf and Gar are coming! And Offa, too!" She gleefully slid onto Caderyn's lap, mindful of his injuries despite being completely oblivious to the sudden stillness that gripped the knights. Orainne started toward an empty chair, but was waylaid by Dayn, who pulled her onto his lap with a smile. Around the table, the knights gazed at one another solemnly, their previous mirth forgotten, as everyone turned to look towards the door.

"Do you think he's come up with a solution?" Dagonet asked quietly.

"God willing," Arthur replied. At that moment, Wulflaf strolled through the door with a confident stride, Offa and Gar following slowly behind.

"Artair."

"Wulflaf," Arthur replied gravely.

"You wished for a way to prevent war between our peoples. It seems to me that there is but one solution open to us. If you are willing."

"I am willing to risk much for peace. What is it?"

Wulflaf paused, knowing that once he answered, there would likely be no way to back out. But he could see no other solution to the problem, other than a full retreat of the Saxons, and he knew instinctively that the time wasn't right. The tribes would fall into complete and utter disarray which would likely deteriorate into an all-out war. _No, this is the only solution left to us. Nothing else remains, not if I am to secure my control._ Before he could continue, however, Gawain broke in impatiently.

"Quit hedging and answer him, Saxon."

Wulflaf turned his icy stare on Gawain, his eyes promising retaliation as he straightened.

"Gawain, enough," Arthur said quietly, staring Gawain down until the knight subsided before turning back to the Saxons. "Wulflaf, I would hear what you have to propose so that we may discuss it. Please, speak freely," he said easily.

Offa stepped forward, limping slightly as he came forward and laid a hand on Wulflaf's shoulder.

"If I may, my lord…"

Wulflaf nodded and stepped back, conceding his position to Offa. He knew well enough that Offa was less confrontational than he was--it would be wiser to let Offa speak. They all sat down at the table, and Offa gazed around the table, meeting each person's eyes before he began.

"As a rule, we normally resolve this situation by taking the natives as slaves, but since that is not an option here, the only other solution is slavery of a different sort," Offa said calmly.

The knights stirred uneasily, disturbed by Offa's words of slavery, and Lancelot was the first to speak.

"Let us be clear on this matter, Saxon—we won't tolerate slavery here. Not in our land," Lancelot said firmly, not exactly sure why he suddenly thought of Briton as his land, but adamant about the matter nevertheless. His eyes flashed at the not-so-distant memory of his own enslavement by the Romans, and he knew he would fight the Saxons if he must in order to prevent the same from happening to any other.

"Yes, if slavery is the only solution you've come up with, then we might as well draw the battle lines here and now," Caderyn said regretfully.

"Gods, Offa," Gar exploded impatiently. "I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. This is what comes of evading the matter at hand," he said in disgust. "We're talking about marriage, you fools," he announced, staring at the knights with vague annoyance at their failure to comprehend.

A stunned silence overtook everyone as they attempted to absorb Gar's revelation, none of them having expected such a suggestion.

"So you want one of your men to marry one of our women?" Bors asked, breaking the silence after a long moment.

"That seems unlikely. We thought perhaps one of _you_ could marry one of _our_ women," Offa said calmly. "But we could do as you proposed, if you wish."

"If you think we're just going to hand our women over to your people to be beaten and abused, then you're gravely mistaken," Guenevere said, his voice carrying a quiet anger that was unmistakable. "I've seen what happens to women in Saxon hands."

"You know nothing, woman," Gar retorted, his eyes alight with an anger to match Guenevere's. "The abuse you speak of does happen sometimes—yes. But we are not all as you would describe. You know nothing of us or our ways, so do not assume that we will act as you would have us. Perhaps you would do better to look among your own people if you wish to know how women are treated by men."

"He's right," Tristan said quietly, his muted tone nevertheless bringing a measure of calm back to the table as knights and Saxons alike turned to face him. "Abuse happens among all of our peoples. Saxon, Woad, Sarmatian, Roman—it makes no difference." Arthur nodded gratefully at Tristan as he glimpsed the quiet acceptance in the faces of all who sat before him.

"Go on, we're listening," Arthur told the Saxons calmly, adopting a relaxed pose as he leaned back in his chair. Wulflaf motioned Offa back as he took charge once more, leaning forward to brace his arms on the table.

"Offa has a sister here—you have met her, yes?" he asked, looking at Arthur for confirmation before continuing. At Arthur's nod, he continued. "As leader of the people here, we bring the offer to you first, Artair." Arthur froze, unsure of what to do.

Lancelot watched the indecision in Arthur's eyes, well aware of his friend's inner turmoil, though the others were not._ Guenevere_, he realized. _He's fallen in love with her and doesn't even realize it. I suppose it's up to me to save him from his self-sacrificing tendencies, or he'll be miserable for the rest of his life._

"Wulflaf, I'm afraid Arthur's heart belongs to another," Lancelot said easily, casting a glance at Guenevere before continuing. "But suppose one of us accepted the offer in his stead—would that be acceptable?"

Wulflaf was silent, considering Lancelot's words for a long, tension-filled moment before nodding at last.

"I have no issue with that. But it is for Offa to say if he will accept another for his sister," Wulflaf said, referring to the other Saxon with a quick jerk of his head.

"Who did you have in mind?" Offa asked slowly as everyone's attention turned to face him.

"Surely you're not considering yourself, Lance," Dayn said laughingly. "You wouldn't last a day." Amidst the chuckles and laughter, Lancelot scowled, looking around the table in annoyance.

"Well who else among us is going to marry the girl?" At Lancelot's question, everyone began to speak up at once, all but Tristan and Arthur, while the Saxons stared at the proceedings dispassionately.

After a few moments, Offa rubbed at his eyes wearily, beginning to doubt the wisdom of this new plan. Finally, Wulflaf lost what little patience he had and slammed a heavy fist down on the surface of the table, bringing a sudden silence to the room.

"A suggestion, if I may, Artair?" he asked tautly.

"Yes, by all means," Arthur said, gesturing for Wulflaf to proceed.

"As it appears that your knights are torn by indecision, perhaps I can make the choice easier. Sæthryth seems partial to the dark-haired one there," he said, nodding in the direction of the knight in question.

"Caderyn?" Lancelot asked in astonishment. "She's partial to Caderyn?"

"And why not?" Caderyn asked with mild affront. "I'm good-looking, and at least I can remember the name of the girl I'm with, unlike some I could mention," he said pointedly.

"Ah, pay him no mind, Cade," Dayn said with a grin. "Lance is just feeling slighted because she didn't pick him!" This prompted further laughter, but it quickly died down as Arthur softly spoke Caderyn's name.

"What say you, Caderyn? The girl favors you, but if you do not wish this, another will be found."

Caderyn gingerly leaned forward, planting his elbows on the table as he began to consider the offer. He'd never thought about marriage, never thought that he'd reach a place in his life where it would even be a possibility. Now that the moment had come, he wasn't sure what to think. _But if it would bring peace_…He didn't see that he had much choice in the matter.

"Well, damn, life's a gamble, isn't it? I'll do it," he said, affixing his customary grin firmly in place.

"Is this acceptable, Offa?" Arthur asked, returning his attention to the Saxon. Offa nodded resolutely, seeming unconcerned at the prospect of Caderyn marrying his sister.

"He seems to be an honorable man, capable of protecting her if there is cause for it. Besides, if he harms her, I'll kill him myself."

"Shouldn't one of the Saxons marry a Woad?" Orainne asked, looking at Dayn before casting her eyes at Wulflaf with a spark of mischief in her eyes. "Caireach is certainly interested in him."

Dayn related her words, leaving out the bit about Caireach and Wulflaf, as he brought up Orainne's suggestion.

"I don't see a lot of them all that eager to marry one of us," Gar said gruffly.

"I'll marry you, Gar!" Hummingbird said sweetly, jumping up from Caderyn's lap to run over and pat Gar's shoulder with pity. "Don't worry about those Woads not liking you—I like you!" she said eagerly. Everyone laughed at her childish enthusiasm, touched by her innocence as she offered to marry the Saxon.

"Ah, but if you were only a bit older, _fea bridd_," he said with a smile, sweeping her onto his lap with a strong but gentle arm. Hummingbird's face fell for a moment, but then she brightened once more.

"I'll be older one day, you'll see!" Everyone laughed, even as she settled into Gar's lap, leaning back against him with a tired yawn. Bors looked as though he might protest, but with a pleading look from Arthur, he kept quiet on the matter. _I suppose it wouldn't hurt to let her sit with him. I don't guess he'll hurt her. _With a shrug, Bors lifted up his cup and resumed drinking.

"Well aside from all that, I suppose we should prepare for a wedding, eh, Caderyn?" Dayn said, bestowing a mischievous grin on the other knight.

"I'll bring the beer," Bors said loudly, raising his cup with a flourish.

"Perhaps I should meet the bride first, as we've never been formerly introduced," Caderyn broke in, smiling sheepishly at everyone.

"Well, go get the girl if you must, because we need to celebrate the good news," Bors insisted. "I think we should all have a drink," he said with a grin.

"Bors, there's never been a time when you've thought otherwise," Lancelot said with an answering grin.

"Here, here," Dagonet said, raising his cup. The knights began to laugh, falling easily into their typical routine of drinking and relaxing amidst good company. With a little help from Hummingbird, the Saxon's were beginning to loosen up a bit as well, and Arthur smiled a moment before leaning forward.

"Wulflaf," he said quietly, motioning Wulflaf to lean forward. Wulflaf complied, curious at the concern he saw in Arthur's eyes.

"Will this truly maintain the peace between our peoples?"

"Life does not come with surety, Artair. I cannot say for certain. But Offa's father holds one of the largest tribes. If you can secure his good will by marrying one of your men to his daughter, then the others will be less eager to turn on you."

"Artorius." Arthur turned to see Merlin looking at him with a grave expression. "It is as Dayn says--we need marriage ties between Saxon and Woad as well if the peace is to last." Around the table, everyone fell silent, their mirth forgotten as talk once more returned to the serious matter of maintaining peace.

"Woad, perhaps you did not hear Gar," Wulflaf said abruptly. "Your people are wary of us, and their hatred runs deep. That does not bode well for any marriage bonds between our warriors."

"And what of your people?" Gawain asked. "Your people don't hate the Woads in return?" he asked pointedly.

"No. We are a practical people. Our war with them was not personal," Wulflaf replied, his icy gaze staring dispassionately back at Gawain.

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at that but didn't respond, though he wondered how anyone could view war with such obvious detachment as the Saxons.

"Yes, well, nevertheless, I think it would behoove us to seek out those who would be willing," Arthur said, getting back to the subject of marriage.

"What about the Woad woman, the dark-haired one who has traveled with us?" Lancelot asked, nodding toward Caireach, who sat in the shadows of the column near the door. "She certainly seems to favor you, Wulflaf--perhaps, she would agree to marriage."

"Perhaps. But I will not," Wulflaf replied.

"What's the problem, Wulf? She's more than a match for you--beautiful and dangerous. What more could you ask for in a woman?"

"We will discuss it no more."

"Do I frighten you that much, Saxon?" The voice came from the corner, and everyone looked up to see Caireach step out of the shadows near a column by the door and walk boldly toward them.

"I fear no woman," Wulflaf said coldly, his jaw tightening with barely concealed anger.

"Oh? Then why is it that you run from me?" she asked, her voice gently mocking as she came up beside him and lifted a lock of his white-blonde hair, twirling it around her finger.

He jerked his head away and stared up at her, his blue eyes bright with animosity as he came to his feet.

"Do not mock me, woman. You would do well to know this--I will _not_ be manipulated into marriage." Shoving his chair back from the table, he strode from the room, leaving the others to gaze after him warily. Caireach turned to Arthur with an apologetic look and shrugged sheepishly before taking Wulflaf's abandoned seat.

"Looks like you got to him, girl," Bors said with a grin.

"And yet, I am no closer to having him than I was before," she said with a rueful smile.

"What is it that you see in him?" Guenevere asked in disgust. "The man killed his own brother, not to mention your own people. You should be thanking the gods that he refuses you."

"Guenevere, do not let your anger at the Saxons blind you to the opportunity we have here for peace," Caireach said stoically. "Besides, one could make the same argument about your feelings for Artorius," she told Guenevere softly, slipping into Celtic to mask her words from the knights. But she made her point, even as Dayn startled to chuckle at Guenevere's obvious embarrassment.

Shaking her head, Orainne elbowed him in the side to silence him, not wishing for Dayn to provoke Guenevere into an argument.

"Artair, perhaps it would be best to approach another with the proposition," Offa said, diplomatically changing the subject. "Wulflaf is not so amenable to the proposal. Drefan perhaps, or even Gar, may prove more agreeable."

"What about you, Offa?" Dagonet asked, quirking an eyebrow at the Saxon.

"I have a wife already, and she wouldn't look so kindly on me if I were to bring another home. She's mean when she's riled," he replied sardonically.

"I can sympathize," Bors said with a rueful grin of his own, raising his mug with a look of commiseration.

"Who would you recommend, then, Offa?" Arthur asked, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Well, you would do well to consider those who would offer ties with the stronger tribes. I will have someone spread the word in camp that we seek those who would perhaps be willing. It will take considerable time, however."

Arthur sighed at Offa's words, worry creasing his brow as he considered the continuous conflicts that would no doubt result in the meantime.

"Artorius." At the sound of Merlin's quiet but commanding voice, everyone fell silent once more, awaiting Merlin's announcement. "Peace will not come in one day. The path will be precarious--we should not tread too swiftly. Let us proceed slowly."

Arthur considered Merlin's words for a long moment before he slowly nodded, gazing around the table at each man and woman in turn.

"Yes, we should take matters one step at a time. Caderyn and Sæthryth will marry. Then we shall see."

With that, the meeting was concluded, and everyone began to leave his or her own separate way. Sensing an opportunity, Dayn pulled Orainne into the shadows, lingering as the others left in order to take advantage of their moment alone to kiss her. A deep grumble escaped him as she ran her fingers through his hair, and he pulled her closer to him, reveling in the feel of her against him, as one of his hands slipped down to rest on her stomach and the baby that was nestled within.

A throat cleared, and Dayn looked up to see Caderyn looking on with a playful smirk.

"Didn't you leave with the others?" Dayn asked in annoyance. Orainne shushed him, looking at Caderyn with concern as she saw through his semblance of mirth.

"Caderyn, what is wrong?" she asked in passable Latin. Dayn frowned as Caderyn glanced down at the table, uncertainty written on his features as he debated over whether or not to speak.

"What is it, brother?" Dayn asked worriedly, stepping forward to grip Caderyn's shoulder encouragingly.

"Dayn, I know I agreed to Arthur's proposal, but…I'm to marry some girl that I know only in passing. Marriage is something I have never considered before, and I'm afraid I have gambled away my happiness by agreeing to this."

"If you're uncertain, Cade, another can be found instead," Dayn told him consolingly. "Gawain could do it."

"Gawain hates the Saxons, Dayn. He and Guenevere are in agreement on that. He's not going to marry a Saxon woman."

"He might," Dayn said with a shrug. "She's certainly pretty enough."

"Dayn, let's not fool ourselves," Caderyn said dryly.

"Then another will be found," Dayn insisted stubbornly.

"Who of us is left, Dayn? Dag is entranced by Fulcinia--anyone could see it. Lance is too much of a scoundrel to settle down with just one woman, and Tristan is with Niamh now."

Dayn sighed, conceding that Caderyn was right.

"It falls to me to do this, Dayn. There is no other," Caderyn said with resignation.

Orainne softly asked Dayn to translate his words before turning to Caderyn with a soft smile.

"Worry not, Caderyn. She is the one you've longed for, and you will love her," she told him soothingly.

"How do you know?" Caderyn asked after Dayn related her words.

"I just do," Orainne said confidently. "Now, let us not dwell on imagined unhappiness any longer," she told them lightly. "Come, Dayn, I'm hungry."

Dayn laughed and invited Caderyn to join them at the tavern for a meal, but the other knight declined. Caderyn watched the two of them leave hand in hand, hoping that he could at least have such affection from his own marriage. For a long time, he remained there, his mind struggling to come to grips with the shock of the day's events.

He did not know how much time had passed before he slowly became aware of another presence in the room. He turned his head, somehow knowing who it was before he fully saw her.

"Hello, Sæthryth," he said with an unreadable expression. She smiled hesitantly at him as she walked toward him, and Caderyn began to think that maybe the gods favored him after all. The light from the torches lining the walls washed over her, casting highlights in her blond hair and revealing her features in an attractive golden glow. _Yes, it would certainly appear as though the goddess of fortune smiles upon me after all. Now if only I can be sure she doesn't have the temperament of a harpy. _

"My brother has spoken to me of what Wulflaf and Artair propose," she said quietly as she sat down beside him. "He says that you will have me."

"And does this please you?" he asked, staring at her as though he could glean for himself what her answer would be even as he waited for her to speak.

"Yes," she replied shyly. "But I would not have you unwilling," she said slowly, looking up at him solemnly.

"Unwilling is one thing that I am not," Caderyn told her with a gentle smile, his spirits lifting as his uncertainty faded away. He slowly came to his feet, gripping the table to steady himself as pain shot through him. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the pain to pass when he suddenly felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and he stilled.

"Perhaps you will come to love me one day," she said with a hopeful voice.

"Yes, perhaps." Their gazes locked for a long moment, and he began to believe that her words might prove truer than she knew. He smiled softly and reached for her hand, grasping it in his own. She smiled back at him, allowing him to tug her closer as they began to follow the path the others had taken.

From the shadows, Wulflaf watched with narrowed eyes before nodding in satisfaction. _Artair may well have his peace. The bonds are being forged, but will they be strong enough to hold? We shall see._

* * *

A/N: Ok, finally! I really struggled with this chapter, which may have attributed to the enormous amount of time it took me to write it. Hopefully, it's not too bad, and it was worth the long wait. Let me know what you all think of it! And sorry again that it took so long! 

**chiefhow**: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Hummingbird's scene is small, but I try to throw her in if at all possible--how did you like it? As far as being scarred, I don't think it'll be too much of an issue for her. Though she has developed something of an attachment to Gar. Anyways, thanks as always for reviewing!

**Just a fan**: I hope you enjoyed the humor in this chapter as well--I had fun with certain scenes of this chapter, even though much of it was difficult to write. The interaction between the knights is typically the most fun. I'm glad you like the characters in the story--I'm rather partial to them myself--haha! Anyways, I hope you got a good laugh, and thanks for reviewing!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: Hey, I'm glad you liked the fighting scenes--I think I'm starting to get a bit better at writing them, thanks to Dayn. LOL. Anyways, thanks for reviewing for me in spite of my complete slackness. The good news is, I've gotten about 5 pages typed up in the next chapter of my LOTR story, so you shouldn't have to wait much longer. By the way, how did the college applications go? Heard anything back yet?

**Camreyn: **Ok, I just looked back at your review and noticed the "Merry X-Mas" that you attached--I'm so ashamed of how long it's taken me to get this chapter finished. I struggled so much with it, which partly attributed to the long wait, but still...it's horrible that I made everyone wait so long. Anyways, I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I tried to throw more humorous knight interaction into the mix, so let me know what you think! Thanks for reviewing, as always!

**MD666**: Hey, glad to hear from you again! Yeah, I decided to shoot for the trilogy for Dayn, so this is the third one. Sorry I've made you wait so long...no doubt, everyone has forgotten the gist of the story since it's been so long. Hopefully, you'll be able to pick back up on it, and you'll still review for me! Anyways, thanks for the review!

**dmitchell: **Yay, I finished my first year of grad school! It's seriously limited the amount of time I have as far as writing fanfic chapters goes, but hopefully, I'll have more time. Anyways, let me know what you think of this chapter, and thanks for reviewing!


	10. Chapter 10: Misgivings and Delays

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

Chapter 10: Misgivings and Delays

Caderyn paused in the doorway of the tavern, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness within before he glanced around the interior, searching the gloom for the one person he needed to talk with. Spotting the telltale flash of blond locks at the knights' usual table, Caderyn strode inside, eager to speak to his friend.

"Gawain." The blonde knight looked up from his drink when Caderyn approached, glancing back down when Caderyn sat down in the chair in front of him. "You are angry with me, brother, and I would speak with you about it."

"What is left to say, Caderyn?" Gawain asked. "You know where I stand on the matter."

"You know how important this alliance is, Gawain. I have to do this if we are to have any hope for a lasting peace—can you not stand with me?"

"Caderyn, she's a Saxon," Gawain said suddenly, unleashing all of his pent-up concerns and suspicion. "They're not to be trusted. How can you marry one of them?"

"What would you like me to say, Gawain? I know you don't trust her, but you should at least trust that I know what I'm doing," Caderyn said, exasperated.

"That's just it, Caderyn—you don't know what you're doing," Gawain argued. "Do you think me so foolishly blind that I don't see the growing unease in your eyes the closer we come to the wedding? Think you I don't know you better than you know yourself? I watch you walk closer to this fate with every passing moment, and I know it for what it really is—folly."

"Yes, of course I have doubts, Gawain—but I won't be a slave to them. There comes a time in a man's life when he's faced with the chance to make the biggest wager of his life, and only he can decide whether to gamble or not. Have you no faith in me to choose for myself, brother?" The question hung in the air, and Caderyn felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Gawain look away.

"Caderyn, you're closer to me than any other," Gawain said, "but in this, I fear you are gravely mistaken. I'm sorry," he said regretfully. He picked up his ale and left, leaving Caderyn to stare down at the table miserably.

"Is this to be my fate, then, Venus Felix?" he murmured, softly questioning the Goddess of Fortune. "Am I to gain a wife, only to lose a brother?" With a sigh of deep remorse, he slid a forgotten cup of ale closer and wondered what the future would bring.

* * *

Sæthryth bit her lip, overwhelmed as she gazed around in at the activity going on around her. With the acceptance of the marriage proposal, everyone had frantically begun to prepare, as Arthur wanted the marriage alliance sealed as soon as possible. That being the case, most of the men were wandering around aimlessly, trying to keep out of the way as the women worked crazily to make the arrangements. 

She looked around for her brother, but wasn't surprised that Offa was nowhere in sight. _He is likely doing his best to help Wulflaf maintain control over our people—no doubt many will protest the marriage. Still…I wish Offa was here._ Gazing around at all of the bustling women, none of whom she really knew, she felt terribly alone. She had no friends here to speak of. She'd never had an opportunity to meet with any of the women that frequently accompanied the knights, and of the few knights she'd met, only her betrothed seemed truly amenable to her presence. She sank onto a nearby bench with a lonely sigh, shifting the dirt beneath her feet with her toe aimlessly. Preoccupied, she didn't notice the presence approaching her until the bench creaked with an added weight. Sæthryth looked up to see the fiery knight's woman sitting next to her, a tired smile on her face.

"Hello, Sæthryth. I am Orainne," she said slowly. Sæthryth smiled back at her, eager for the company, even if they weren't able to communicate easily. Orainne shoved a lock of her hair behind her ear and glanced toward the tavern where Caderyn had disappeared shortly before. "Do you have worry to marry Caderyn?" she asked haltingly, her bright blue eyes gazing kindly back at Sæthryth as she waited for an answer.

"No, no worry," Sæthryth told her shyly, casting a quick look Caderyn's way before smiling back at the younger woman. "I am eager to marry, for I am much lonely here."

"Caderyn is a good man…he will make you much happy." Sæthryth looked down, picturing Caderyn as she had seen him earlier that morning—his dark, tousled hair, noble features, and strong frame as he'd leaned his head back and closed his eyes, absorbing the sunlight for a quiet moment.

"I do not know him well, Orainne, but something tells me you speak truth. We will come to know each other, and we will be happy." Orainne nodded, not understanding some of what Sæthryth said, but understanding both the confidence and the hopefulness in her voice nevertheless. "Still," Sæthryth continued, "this seems a considerable hassle—my people have never placed much importance on the appearance of such matters," she said as she gazed around at the frantic preparations. Before she could continue, Vanora hurried over, dragging Wulflaf over with a hassled look, the other Saxon men following closely behind.

"Where do you lead us, woman?" Wulflaf asked with more than a small trace of impatience.

"I need you all to remain here so that I can find you when I need you," Vanora told them importantly.

"For what reason could you possibly need us?" Gar asked with more than a minor trace of annoyance.

"I don't know yet, but I'm sure something will come up," she replied distractedly, bending down to pick up a basket of fruit that sat beside the bench.

"This is foolish—we are warriors, not handmaidens to wait upon a bride," Gar said in annoyance.

"Don't be difficult—just do as I said, Saxon," Vanora told him, her eyes narrowing with the promise of swift retribution if he was so unwise as to do otherwise. The Saxons looked to Wulflaf for direction, waiting to see how he would respond to the woman's commands. Heaving a sigh of irritated resignation, Wulflaf threw his hands up and muttered a heartfelt curse before telling them to remain where Vanora stationed them before he turned and walked away without another word. Vanora watched for a long moment, as though debating whether or not to follow him, before she looked back at the remaining men. She stared at them critically for only a second and with a nod of her head, she turned and walked away in the opposite direction, apparently coming to the conclusion that it wasn't worth chasing after Wulflaf when she still had the rest of them to help her. "Wait here for me, in case I have need of you," she called back over her shoulder as she hurried away.

With a frustrated sigh of his own, Gar propped himself up against the wall and scowled angrily after Vanora and Wulflaf, and Drefan threw a friendly arm over his shoulder.

"Come, Gar," Drefan said easily, "enjoy the peace for a time. It happens so infrequently that you should take pleasure in it when it comes along." Gar responded with an angry look in Drefan's direction as he crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly and shrugged off Drefan's arm.

"This is all your fault, woman," Gar said suddenly to Sæthryth. She was saved from responding, however, when Hummingbird suddenly ran by in a blur of red hair and brown dress, turning back suddenly when she spotted them and squeezing herself into the small space on the bench between Sæthryth and Orainne.

"Yay, it's Wedding Day! Isn't it exciting, Sæthryth?" she cried happily, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "You're going to marry Caderyn, and then you'll be my aunt, and I can come to see you, and we'll have fun and do things, and you can come and see me, too!"

"I'll be your aunt? I didn't realize Caderyn is your father's brother," Sæthryth said with a puzzled expression.

"Oh, he's not," Hummingbird said off-handedly, lowering her head as she absently brushed at a dust stain off her dress.

"Your mother's brother, then," Sæthryth said with a nod of confirmation.

"Nope."

"Then…how is it that I will be your aunt?"

"Because Caderyn is my uncle, silly," Hummingbird told her, sparing a glance in Sæthryth's direction that clearly said she was foolish for not knowing the answer to such a question.

"But child, for him to be your uncle, he would either have to be your father's brother or your mother's brother," Rathelm said quietly.

"Nuh-uh," she argued, spitting on the stain and rubbing at it diligently as she spoke. "Papa says that all the knights are my uncles, because we're Sarmatian, and they're blood," she said matter-of-factly.

"Ah, I see," Sæthryth said, at last comprehending what the little girl meant. "I would be honored to join your family, _fea bridd_."

At that moment, Offa appear nearby, looking harrowed as he gazed around impatiently. Spotting them, he approached, the limp he was struggling to hide only barely noticeable as he slowly made his way toward them.

"Offa, come sit with us!" Hummingbird yelled, forgetting all about the dirt stain as she caught sight of Offa.

"As much as I wish it, I cannot, little one. Besides, I do not think that bench you sit on can hold another," he said, sparing a smile for Hummingbird before turning to Sæthryth. Sister, I am to escort you to the wife of the loud Sarmatian, and we need to hurry—we don't wish to anger her. Her man tells me that she's a _helsceaða_ if she's crossed."

"Very well, brother," Sæthryth replied with a laugh, coming to her feet and taking her brother's proffered arm. "Hummingbird, would you like to accompany us?" she asked.

"Alright," the little girl replied, eagerly leaping up to grab Offa's other arm. "Will you be my escort, too, Offa?" she asked prettily.

"You honor me with your request, _fea bridd_," Offa told her with a smile, allowing her to retain her hold on his arm. "It's a lucky man who gets the privilege to escort two such beautiful ladies," he said with a wink.

Hummingbird giggled, and the others all smiled to hear her laugh so prettily, her childlike delight endearing.

"Bye, everyone! I'll see you all at the Wedding Day," she yelled back excitedly, eliciting a laugh out of everyone. As Offa, Hummingbird, and Sæthryth left, the Saxons slowly fell silent, each looking expectantly at one another, as though asking what they should do now.

"With Offa, Sæthryth, and _Fea Bridd_ as a distraction, the bitch-woman will surely be occupied," Gar said suddenly. "Let's leave while we have the chance." The others were still for only a moment before they stood abruptly. As they all began to hurry off in the direction of their camp, Gar turned back, looking down at Orainne expectantly. "Are you coming with us, _fæmna_?"

Orainne looked up, considering his words for a moment and slowly nodded. He helped her to her feet, and she smiled mischievously as she followed him, thinking of what Vanora would say when she came back to find them all gone. With a laugh, she picked up her pace, coming up alongside Gar who smiled back down at her, obviously thinking the same thing.

"When we reach our camp, I'll show you how to play _ban_," he told her, uncertain whether she understood him or not, but certain that by the end of the day, she would be able to not only play the game but also curse in the Saxon tongue as well as any Saxon warrior.

* * *

Feeling as though he'd narrowly escaped some dark fate after managing to escape the red-haired woman, Wulflaf walked resolutely toward the closest tavern, wanting only to be left alone to drink himself into oblivion. The preparations for the wedding had him uneasy and thinking entirely too much. _I don't wish to be a part of this, and would that I had never brought up the matter of weddings._ The familiar ache in his chest was back, and he sped up, not wishing to think on weddings, women, or love. 

Dropping into a seat in a dark corner of the tavern, Wulflaf bent his head, staring morosely into the ale set down before him. _I feel your absence now more than ever, Maidha, for what I could not give you_, he thought solemnly, allowing himself, for the first time in many years, to think of her once more…

_He'd been watching her for some time, watching her lithe form weave in and out of the narrow paths between the sleeping bodies covering the floor. Her face was pretty—not beautiful, but pretty—marred only by a scar that cut across her left cheek. But some unnamed quality about her had caught his eye and had kept him watching her despite his need for sleep. _

_He sat away from the others, neither participating with them nor wishing to, content to simply be left alone. The anger that was a constant part of him churned in his gut, and he tightened his hold on the ale in his fist, trying to push away all thought in the vain hope that he could have a moment's peace from the deep anger that was a constant part of him. The woman passed again into his line of sight, and Wulflaf welcomed the respite she offered from the solitude of his own mind. At that moment, she lifted her head, and their eyes met for a brief second before she hastily lowered her head, not wishing to garner the unwarranted attention of a Saxon warrior. But it was too late._

"_Come here, woman." With only a slight tremble to betray her trepidation, she set the tray she held in her arms down and slowly approached him. _

"_Yes, my lord?"_

"_Tell me your name."_

"_Maidha, my lord."_

"_Sit by me, Maidha—I have a desire for company." She stiffened at his words, paralyzing fear filling her eyes, and his perceptive eyes softened somewhat. "You have nothing to fear from me, woman. I simply wish you to sit with me, no more than that."_

_She slowly knelt at his feet, folding her hands in her lap and lowering her head in the submissive manner of slaves, and Wulflaf watched her for a long moment before looking away, no longer certain why exactly he'd called her over. _

_He couldn't say how long they sat there silently before she finally ventured to speak, uncomfortable with the unending silence._

"_My lord, should I bring you more ale?"_

"_No," he replied curtly. She waited for a moment, hoping he would speak further, but she quickly recognized he was likely to remain silent, and it was this realization that prompted her to continue._

"_Does something trouble you, my lord?" she asked hesitantly._

"_Nothing you need concern yourself with." _

_She was silent for a long time, secretly watching him with questioning eyes. His stoic silence unsettled her, and it wasn't hard for him to see the anxiety in her body as she did her best to sit through the unbearable silence. _

"_My lord," she began, but he cut her off with a fierce stare and a wave of his hand._

"_Do not call me such," he said suddenly, pinning her with a cold, harsh look. _

"_What would you have me call you then?"_

"_My name is Wulflaf. That will suffice."_

"_But…it's disrespectful for a slave to speak thus to a warrior—why would you have me dishonor you this way?"_

"_It is not disrespectful to call the son of a slave by name." As he watched her eyes widen with disbelief, he couldn't really say what had urged him to reveal the nature of his parentage to her, but the damage was done._

"_How do you sit before me a warrior, then?" she asked, shifting closer to him with all the anticipation of a child anxiously awaiting the climax of a story._

"_My father is a very powerful man," he said coldly._

"_Who is he?"_

"_We will not speak of it." He fell silent again, his eyes once more returning to the depths of the flames in the hearth before him. _

"_I'm sorry," she said softly._

"_What reason do you have to feel sorry?"_

"_I speak of matters that are painful for you. I would apologize to you for such a wrong."_

"_So I can assume you will know better than to speak of it again," he replied curtly. She nodded and lowered her eyes once again, causing Wulflaf to frown—he hadn't meant to speak so sharply. _

"_To whom do you call "Master?" he asked, changing the subject abruptly._

"_I was a part of Cathair's household until two days ago," she told him quietly._

"_And now?"_

"_I was sold to another—Cerdic is my master now." At the news, Wulflaf's jaw tightened and anger settled in his gut. _Of all the warriors among us, she would belong to my father.

"_Has he taken notice of you?" he asked her, his fierce gaze locked onto hers as he awaited her answer._

"_No—I avoid him as much as I am able," she whispered._

"_For your own sake, continue to do so."_

"_He frightens me," she revealed to him after only a moment's hesitation. "And his son—Cynric, he's called—there is a sickness inside him, a cruelty that makes him so much worse than his father. It's in his eyes…" She fell silent, fearfully glancing around them to ensure that no one was listening._

"_Know this, woman—if Cynric harms you, I will see to it that he knows better than to do so again." _

"_But, how can you?" she asked despairingly. "His father is high chieftain of the people—surely Cerdic will kill you if you harm his son."_

"_No. Cerdic will not interfere. And we have an understanding, Cynric and I."_ Yes, we certainly do, and it's that if he crosses me, I'll strike him senseless, until he is so shamed that he would not dare speak of it to his father. _"You will come to me if he threatens you, Maidha," he commanded her, and she stared at him with perplexed eyes._

"_I don't understand."_

"_What about it is difficult?" he asked, gazing down at her with sardonic eyes._

"_I am merely a slave—why would you see to my safety? I am nothing in this place, worth scarcely more than the hound that rests at Cerdic's feet."_

"_I would not have any slave treated as my mother was," he told her, his jaw tight with barely suppressed rage._

"_What happened to her?" Maidha ventured to ask, hesitatingly moving closer to him._

"_Cerdic gave her to one of his men for a night, and the man killed her in a drunken rage—he beat her to death." _

_Maidha gasped, her face paling as she unconsciously rested her hand on his knee._

"_Oh, Wulflaf, I'm sorry," she murmured._

"_Don't be. I took care of it." She didn't ask what he meant, and he didn't offer the information, but he recalled well what it had felt to drive his sword through the heart of the man who'd killed his mother, how the wave of hot blood had washed over him as he plunged his blade in further. "Know this, Maidha, I will suffer no one to harm you," he said suddenly, his eyes gazing into hers with an intensity so deep it was almost frightening. He couldn't say why she was suddenly so important to him, but he had the strangest feeling that the gods had bestowed a gift upon him for the first time in his life, and he was loathe to let this new gift come to harm. _No, I would not have you harmed—you are mine, and I protect what is mine,_ he thought, clenching his fists. He would protect her._

Years later, Wulflaf's mind still burned with guilt and rage at the thought of his failure. _I was foolish to think I could protect her. The gods are fickle,_ he thought, his throat tightening at the surge of anguish that threatened to overcome him. Angry at the swell of emotion, Wulflaf shoved away from the table and stood, pouring his ale out onto the ground and leaving the tavern with meaningful strides. Exercising his iron-clad control, he wiped all thoughts of Maidha out of his mind, refusing to be consumed.

* * *

Early afternoon found Dayn sitting with Tristan and most of the other knights at a tavern, all of them hoping to get as far away from the wedding preparations as they could. The busy women were paying them no mind, and all of the men breathed a silent sigh of relief for the inattention. Even Lancelot was foregoing his usual female companionship in favor of avoid being conscripted to help with the preparations. Spotting movement in the corner of his eye, Dayn looked up, curiously watching Tristan motion a serving boy over with a wave of his hand. _What's he doing? He never purposely attracts the attention of the servants, so why is he calling for one now?_

The serving boy--no older than ten--approached, and Tristan hauled him closer with an arm thrown over the boy's shoulders.

"Sir?" the boy asked eagerly.

"Is she well?"

"Yes, sir. Jamis just reported in. He says your woman is watching all of the women get the wedding ready, and she hasn't had any trouble, sir—we're making sure of it," the boy told him seriously.

"Good," Tristan replied, dismissing the boy with a nod. Dayn watched him with a growing smile before he leaned back lazily against the wall and slanted a sly look at Tristan.

"So you're having the serving boys look after your woman, now, Tristan?"

"We have a mutual agreement. They need something useful to do. I need someone to watch after Niamh from time to time."

Dayn leveled a grin at Tristan, his mouth starting to lift in a smirk, and Tristan stared at him questioningly even as he began to peel an apple with his dagger.

"Why do you stare at me, Dayn?" Tristan asked, cocking an eyebrow imperiously at Dayn.

"Oh, no reason," Dayn said innocently, his mischievous grin belying his words to the contrary.

"Dayn," Tristan said slowly, his eyes narrowing, wanting an answer for why Dayn looked so highly amused.

"I just find it amusing is all. How you care about her, and yet refuse to admit it," Dayn replied, his eyes alight with amusement.

"What is it you speak of?"

"Niamh. I've seen how you look at her, talk about her. You care about her."

"There you are!" The happy shout saved Tristan from replying to Dayn's accusation as Hummingbird ran up to them and threw herself into Dayn's lap. "Mama sent me to find you, and I did it!"

"What did she want?" Dayn asked, laughing at the little girl's excitement as she practically shook with the excitement of the day.

"She said the wedding is going to start soon, and she wants you both to hurry. You can't be late!" Hummingbird said anxiously.

"I'd better go find Niamh, then," Tristan said, coming to his feet. "I'll meet you there, Dayn."

"I'll go with Tristan, to make certain he finds Niamh," Hummingbird said importantly, nodding her head resolutely. Dayn smiled, winking down at her, before he nodded and turned on his heel.

"Don't take too long," he called back over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around as he left to go fetch Orainne. Tristan watched him go for a moment before glancing down at Hummingbird indifferently.

Tristan studied her, suspicious of her motives even as she smiled guilelessly back up at him. _What mischief is this? For mischief is all it can be—seldom does she choose not to follow Dayn…Perhaps the gods are punishing me for some infraction, _he thought, rolling his eyes heavenward as though to seek the answer to his question there.

"Hurry, Tristan! We don't have time to stand here—they might start the wedding without us!" she cried impatiently, pulling on his hand urgently. Allowing her to maintain her grip on his hand, he started forward with a sigh, still uncertain exactly how he had come to be saddled with the energetic six-year-old as she began to skip along beside him happily.

"Tristan?"

"Hmm."

"Do you know what I think?"

"No."

"Well, I'll tell you," she said practically. "I've decided that you should marry Niamh—she's nice, and she likes you a lot. Her eyes get all happy when she looks at you."

"You think this?" Tristan asked, looking down at her as she bounced along unaware of the bearing of her words.

"Uh-huh. You're just a boy—and boys don't know stuff like that—so I just thought I should tell you, so you could do something about it."

Tristan raised an eyebrow at this, trying to decide whether or not the little girl meant to insult him or not—she was clever enough, certainly, but then, she didn't seem to be watching him for a response…She merely continued to chatter, and Tristan shook his head at his own foolishness.

"When I get big," she continued, "I'm gonna get married, too! But I'm gonna be a knight first, like Papa. Or maybe I'll be a Saxon when I get big, like Gar and Wulflaf and Offa," she continued.

Tristan chuckled a bit, amused by her despite himself.

"You will have to be trained in the ways of all Sarmatian knights, then," he told her seriously, playing along.

"Yeah, but I've already got my dagger, and one day, I'm gonna get my sword, and I'll be the best knight ever." Suddenly, Tristan was reminded of Dayn, and he smiled at the memory of a younger Dayn defiantly announcing to everyone that he was going to be a great knight when he received his sword.

"EIGHT!" Bors's voice echoed loudly around them, and Hummingbird, not to be beat, yelled back in a voice loud enough to rival her father's.

"WHAT?" she hollered.

"Stop pestering Tristan and get yourself home! You mother wants you!"

"But I was gonna help Tristan!"

"Don't argue with me, Eight!"

With an angry huff, Hummingbird stomped away, muttering to herself over the unfairness of it all as Tristan watched her go with no small measure of amusement.

"Oh, and Tristan?" Bors called out, "Vanora says to hurry it up!"

Tristan didn't reply, never having been one to yell as Bors was wont to do, and merely threw up an arm in lieu of a response as he continued on toward the Stone Hill, where he'd last seen Niamh. _Hopefully, she is still there._

Reaching the crest of the hill, Tristan looked around, finally spotting Niamh not too far from the women who were seeing to the last of the preparations. He quietly came to stand behind her, about to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder when something—he couldn't say what—stayed his hand. Silently, he shifted so that he could see her better, watching her gaze upon the wedding preparations with a wistful expression on her face. Tristan frowned, wondering at her apparent sadness—_she seemed happy this morning when we woke. What has changed?_

Bothered that he may have missed whatever might have caused her sudden dejection, he scowled and stepped forward.

"Niamh." She spun around, startled and caught completely off guard by the sight of him.

"Tristan," she scolded lightly, "you're always taking me by surprise, sneaking up on me that way. I didn't see you—how long were you standing there?" she asked, her smile not reaching her eyes.

"Long enough. What's wrong?" he asked her, his shrewd gaze capturing her eyes as though he sought the answer to his question in the depths of her eyes.

"I'm not certain what you mean," she hedged, dropping her eyes to avoid making eye contact.

"The wedding—you watch with a longing in your eye—do you wish the same for yourself?"

"Oh," she breathed softly, "It's nothing, Tristan. Every girl dreams of a wedding, but they are childish fancies, nothing more."

Tristan was silent only for a moment before he tipped her chin up, looking her in the eyes.

"Niamh, I am not a man accustomed to speaking words of affection—such things do not come easy to me. But I will give you this," he said, nodding in the direction of the wedding, "if it is what you want."

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love as she hugged him tightly around the waist.

"It is enough that you asked," she cried happily. "I don't need pretty words or marriage vows—I know you love me." And with a strange easing in his heart, Tristan realized that the she spoke the absolute truth—he did love her.

"Come, we should go now. They are ready for us." With a smile and a nod, she took hold of his arm, settling her hand in the crook of his elbow as he led the way to the Stone Hill.

* * *

Niamh leaned back against Tristan, smiling softly when his arms came up to surround her. As she watched Arthur walk up the hill toward them to begin the ceremony, she was pleased to see the happiness she felt mirrored in the smiles of those around her. Dayn and Orainne stood nearby, her cheek resting against his shoulder as she nestled against him. Of the Saxons, Offa stood closest to Sæthryth and Caderyn, with most of the other Saxons grouped closely behind him. Only Wulflaf stood apart from the others, remaining on the outskirts of the crowd as he leaned against one of the large stones that formed a half circle around the crest of the hill. _Why does he remain apart in the midst of such a happy occasion? Such a rigid man…_Arthur suddenly started to speak then, and Niamh's attention was brought back to the matter at hand, and Wulflaf's aloofness was forgotten. 

As Arthur began to speak, Caderyn looked down at Sæthryth and winked at her with a mischievous smile, eliciting a blush in her delicate features. Ignoring Arthur's significantly wordy speech, Caderyn took the moment to observe his soon-to-be wife, admiring her soft features. Her crown of golden curls fell lightly down her back, small tendrils framing her face, and a circlet adorned her head, sparkling in the afternoon sun. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with happiness, and Caderyn found himself lost in their depths as he thanked the Goddess for his good fortune.

"Caderyn?" Arthur's voice suddenly broke into his reverie, and Caderyn started, realizing suddenly that Arthur was looking at him expectantly. Glancing from Arthur to Sæthryth and back again, he bit his lip and looked back at Arthur with a guilty expression.

"Um…could you repeat the question?" he asked, giving Arthur his most convincing smile as Arthur shook his head ruefully. Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Caderyn grinned, shrugging sheepishly.

"Will you take this woman as your own?" Arthur repeated, looking on in amusement.

"Yes," Caderyn answered with a smile, looking back down at Sæthryth only to find himself once again completely taken by the happiness in her face as she smiled back up at him. "I will take this woman and hold her in my heart, to cherish her, to love her, and to protect her for always."

"And Sæthryth, will you have this man to be your own?" Arthur asked, turning to Sæthryth.

"Yes. I will have this man and take him into my heart, to cherish him, to love him, and to stand by his side for always."

"Understand you what your duty to her pertains, Caderyn?"

"I do."

"And have you a token of your intentions to present to her?" Arthur asked. Caderyn nodded, removing a pendant from around his neck and holding it in his hand. "Let this token symbolize the bond between you," Arthur continued, "the love you share, the protection you offer, and the blessings you bestow upon one another."

Arthur motioned Caderyn to step closer, and coming forward, Caderyn slipped the pendant over Sæthryth's head, lightly pressing it against her as he lowered it into place, his hand lingering as he silently claimed her as his own. Arthur was about to continue when Sæthryth laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Artair, wait. I have a token as well," she said softly, holding out her hand to reveal a leather cord threaded through a small ring. "This was my mother's ring. My father gave it to me when she died, to wear when I was married, and I have carried it since that day. Now, I grant it to you, my husband." Standing up on her toes, she reached up and placed the cord around his neck with a gentle smile.

"Treasure these tokens as you treasure each other," Arthur finished with a nod, placing Sæthryth's hand in Caderyn's with a smile of his own.

"Is it over yet? Are they married now?"

Caderyn smiled at Sæthryth as Hummingbird's high-pitched voice interrupted the solemnity of the ceremony. Glancing over Sæthryth's shoulder, he could see Vanora shushing the excited little girl, even as Bors thumped her on the shoulder.

"Ouch, Papa, that hurt!"

"Shush, girl," Bors whispered with mild annoyance.

"Alright," she replied exasperatedly.

Without missing a beat, Arthur spoke the final words that would unite Caderyn and Sæthryth, only a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth betraying his amusement. It seemed to Caderyn as though only moments passed before the ceremony was completed and Offa stepped up behind him.

"Take care of her, brother," Offa told him, clapping a heavy hand down on Caderyn's shoulder playfully, and Caderyn grinned.

"No worries, Offa. I wouldn't want to have the Saxons after me, now, would I?"

Looking around, Caderyn spotted Wulflaf standing apart from everyone, not taking part in the celebration, despite the fair number of Saxons who were also present. Surprisingly, the representatives of the tribes—those that had been accompanying Wulflaf to his meetings with Arthur—had chosen to come to the ceremony, and the entire event had been conducted in peace, everyone apparently choosing to take advantage of the marriage in order to enjoy a few moments of relative peace.

"What are we all waitin' for? Start passing the ale," Bors yelled raucously. Laughter and shouts of agreement went up, and Caderyn felt his mind ease. _I suppose I made the wise choice after all, for my gamble seems to be paying off. I get a pretty wife, Arthur gets his peace, and Bors gets a chance to drink—everybody is happy._ As he looked around though, he suddenly realized that one person was conspicuously absent. _I guess not everyone is happy_, he thought sadly.

"Dayn!" Grabbing the younger man's arm, Caderyn pulled him aside. "Where's Gawain?"

"Gawain? Uh…he had something to take care of…and uh, he said to tell you he was sorry he couldn't come."

"Dayn, it's a wonder you've managed to stay alive all this time because you can't lie worth a damn."

"I can when I have to—I certainly hid enough from you over the years."

"Well that was pathetic—you need to practice."

"Sorry, it was the best I could come up with on short notice."

"So where is he, then?" Caderyn asked, unwilling to let the matter go.

"Ah, Cade, you know how he is…"

"I take it he's still angry with me, then."

"He's just stubborn, that's all," Dayn said easily, offering him a placating smile.

"Yeah, that's what worries me."

"Caderyn, stop your fretting—you're like a bloody woman," Bors interrupted, coming up behind Caderyn and throwing a playful arm over Caderyn's shoulder. "Have some ale—it'll make you feel better." With a laugh, Caderyn seized the proffered ale from Bors's hand and took a swig, unable to stay worried with the older knight around.

"ARTORIUS CASTUS!" The shout brought the celebration to a halt, and everyone turned to see a cadre of mounted Roman cavalry standing before them at the crest of the hill. Arthur came forward, the crowd of onlookers—Saxon and Sarmatian alike—gazing on in confusion. Hummingbird darted into the crowd before either of her parents could stop her, eager as usual to find out what was happening. She squeezed in between Gar and Sæthryth, watching wide-eyed to see what would happen.

"What is the cause for your intrusion here?" Arthur asked the captain in charge. The Roman captain dismounted, motioning for two of his men to do the same, and Lancelot slowly edged closer, his fingers itching to draw his sword as a sudden feeling of unease assailed him. _Tread carefully here, Arthur,_ he thought as he eyed the Roman captain's grave expression.

"One of your men has not yet been freed from Roman command—we've come to see to it that he fulfills the terms of his service."

"Arthur, it's Dayn they want," Caderyn whispered, even as the Roman continued and Dayn began to step away from Orainne imperceptibly.

"By order of Rome, the one known as Dayn of Sarmatia must come with us," the captain pronounced, his eyes never wavering as he stared Arthur down

"Oh shit," Bors mumbled, stepping up beside Lancelot somewhat unsteadily, but ready to help despite being well on his way to being inebriated.

"I am through with Roman servitude," Dayn said, his voice dropping to a growl as he pulled his sword and stepped forward. "I won't be taken again."

"Dayn," Arthur said, holding up his hand and shaking his head as Dayn went to move into a defensive position.

"What?" Dayn snarled.

"Don't turn this into a fight. Not now."

"Arthur, look around you—there are only two choices here: fight or submit. And I submit to no one. Not anymore."

"You will come with us, Sarmatian, whether it is of your own will or not," the captain said grimly.

"Think you so?" Dayn asked with a sarcastic edge.

"I have no doubt whatsoever."

"Just be prepared to lose some of your men, then," Dayn told him, taking a two-handed grip on his sword.

"It won't come to that," the captain replied confidently.

"Oh won't it? And why is that?" Dayn sneered.

"Because if you fight us, the woman dies," he said humorlessly, and with a quick motion of his hand, two of his soldiers jerked Sæthryth forward, locking her in a firm hold. Caderyn started forward, but suddenly, Gawain was there, holding him back.

"Don't my friend. You'll only get yourself and your woman killed," Gawain murmured in his ear.

Gar and Dagonet kept Offa back, and Gawain maintained a firm hold on Caderyn as Dayn froze, looking to Arthur with a sudden hesitant expression.

"Brave Roman, threatening a woman merely to take one man," Lancelot said coldly.

"I do what I must. I trust you'll come with us peacefully," he the captain said, his eyes never leaving the young knight. Dayn stood motionless, his face a picture of indecision as Arthur gazed back at him, feeling as though he were watching the peace fall apart before his eyes even as his youngest knight was to be taken from him.

_I cannot tell you what you must do_, Arthur thought, meeting Dayn's eyes with misery in his own.

Dayn glanced down at the sword in his hand, the agony in his gaze apparent as he let his sword fall from his grasp with a sigh.

"For you, Arthur, so that you may have your peace," he said softly. He looked once at Orainne, an apology in his eyes as he slowly walked toward a fourth Roman, who held a pair of shackles expectantly.

"Dayn!" Orainne cried, trying to run forward, but Tristan caught her, holding her as she began to cry in earnest, her legs collapsing beneath her. Tristan shifted his grip to catch her, slowly lowering her to the ground as she buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. Niamh looked on in silent dismay, wanting to comfort her but not certain how.

As the Roman secured the shackles on his wrists and relieved him of his daggers, Dayn looked up at the Roman captain, silently imploring.

"I need a moment to say good-bye." The Roman nodded, and Dayn turned, stepping toward Arthur, only to be waylaid by Lancelot's hand on his arm.

"We'll come for you, Dayn," Lancelot said in Sarmatian.

"No, Lance, you can't," Dayn told him firmly, shaking his head regretfully. "I always knew it would come to this. There's nothing you can do now."

"So you expect us to do nothing while they take you?" Lancelot asked incredulously, his face dark with anger.

"You don't have a choice, Lance," Dayn said forcefully. "The Romans own me, now—they always will. Don't let them own you, too," Dayn finished softly, the hopelessness in his voice mirrored in his eyes as he turned away from Lancelot to stand before Arthur.

"Arthur, if ever you loved me, don't let any harm come to Orainne," Dayn said.

"You sacrifice much for me, my friend, and I will not forget that," Arthur said. "I'll watch after her until you return to us," Arthur said solemnly.

"Do you remember what I told you, that day that Bishop Germanus granted the others their freedom?" Dayn asked, his eyes gazing with intensity into Arthur's own.

Arthur's mind raced as he struggled to recall what Dayn spoke of, and with a sudden chill, he recalled exactly what Dayn was referring to: "_Dayn, will you be returning to Rome with me until you meet your new commander?" "No, Arthur. I won't wait for another commander. I served you proudly, and I always will. I'll die before I serve another Roman."_

"Dayn, don't do anything rash. I won't leave you under Roman shackles, I promise you," Arthur told himearnestly.

"Arthur, you can't save me anymore…."

"Wait for us by the shore," Arthur said, gripping Dayn tightly by the shoulders. "Do nothing, do you understand?"

Dayn didn't reply, only shrugged off Arthur's hands and turned away, his head down as he went to Orainne.

"Dayn, please don't go!" she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms as he crouched down beside her. He held her close, inhaling the scent of her hair, relishing the feel of her in his arms and the comfort she brought him.

"I'm sorry, love. Sæthryth is more important than I—the peace rests on her, and I have to do this."

"I don't want you to go," she cried, clinging to him desperately.

"I know," he whispered. He knew there was really nothing more he could say, and his heart ached as he held her, feeling the sobs wracking her small frame. He looked up at Tristan helplessly, silently asking the older man for help, and with a slight nod, Tristan slowly helped pry Orainne away from Dayn, holding her as Dayn stood and turned to the knights, his throat tight with suppressed emotion.

"You have been my brothers, and I was proud to fight with all of you," he said, meeting the eyes of each one of his fellow knights, and with a nod of farewell, he slowly turned his back and rejoined the Romans who waited for him impatiently, allowing them to take hold of him as they started back down the hill.

The soldiers holding Sæthryth released her, and she ran for Caderyn, who swept her into a grateful hug, even as he looked over at Dayn with anguish in his eyes as he watched the Romans lead him away.

Wulflaf came forward, moving up beside Arthur, watching expressionlessly as the Romans helped Dayn mount a waiting horse, one of the Romans picking up Dayn's fallen sword while watching everyone mistrustfully.

"You're going to let them take your man without a fight?" he asked softly.

"No, not without a fight. But the time is not right. Tonight will be soon enough."

"Why not simply kill them now?"

"Because more would follow in their stead, and retaliation would be swift. No, we'll wait for them to reach the sea before we make our move."

"You have a plan, then?"

"Yes. But I must ask you for the aid of some of your men."

"How many do you need?"

"Ten should do it."

"I will see to it," Wulflaf said with a nod, moving away without another word as Arthur turned to address the Sarmatians.

"For those of you who plan to ride after Dayn with me, gather what you will and meet me at the stables tonight. We'll ride when the moon rises."

* * *

A/N: Sorry, as always, for the long wait, but I suppose at least this time was a bit more justified, seeing as how it's quite a long chapter. Anyways, reviews are more than welcome, so let me know what you think! BTW, if anyone wants to know what the few random Saxon words were, just let me know. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter for me! 

**ModestySparrow9**: Ok, so I keep hearing that we're not supposed to reply to reviews on a chapter, but from what I gather, the site simply doesn't want someone uploading a "chapter" of nothing but replys. I think it's okay to respond as long as there's actually a story chapter along with it. Anyways, thanks for reviewing and let me know what you think of this chapter!

**dmitchell**: Those papers and readings for grad school have definitely cut into my time, but I finally got this chapter finished! It's turned into a monster of a chapter--I thought I was never going to get it finished. Anyways, thanks so much for reviewing. It's always great to hear from you.

**Just a fan**: Your devotion to the story is touching--thanks so much for sticking with me despite the excruciatingly long wait that I put you through. Hope you were as excited to see this chapter as you were the last--so I know you like Dayn and Orainne, but what do you think about Caderyn and Sæthryth? I'm working on figuring out the dynamic between the two, and I'd like to know how I'm doing. Anyways, thank you so much for reviewing--it's really motivating to hear from someone who is as excited about a chapter as you are--thanks.

**chiefhow**: If I decide to write a sequel to this one--no promises--then I have plans for Hummingbird. It won't be Gar that she marries--the age difference would freak me out, too. But let's just say that I already have an idea for who it would be. Anyways, I'm hoping to get more Caireach and Wulflaf scenes into the upcoming chapters. It's tricky, because I've realized that I have so much going on at one time and so many characters that it's starting to get difficult to integrate everything. Anyways, thanks for the review! Hope to hear from you again!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: Wow, I just realized that the last time I updated, you were still finishing up your senior year. Now you're in college, and it's just sad that it took me that long to get this chapter done. Oh well. Anyways, thanks for sticking with me despite the wait, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. As always, I put Hummingbird in as frequently as possible, and I got a nice Wulflaf scene to flesh his character out a bit, so let me know what you think!

**camreyn**: Darn it--Upon looking back at my reviews, I saw where you wrote about how you had sent me an email, but I can't find it now, and I'm so irritated because I wanted to respond to you. Anyways, I'm really sorry I can't give you a wonderfully long response to what was no doubt a long email review, but just know that I appreciate you reviewing and if you have any questions that weren't answered from the last chapter, let me know and I'll just email you a response! Thanks for reviewing for me!

**spamtotz033190**: Hey, I hope you glance this way--you sent me sort of a blanket review for all of the Dayn stories, so I'm assuming you read this one as well. Thanks for dropping me a line--though it's been awhile since I've updated--and I hope you'll continue to stick with me. I haven't forgotten your story, either, but as you can probably tell, I never seem to have enough time, which is why I hardly ever get to catch up on anyone's stories. Anyways, I'll get back to it, soon, ok?


	11. Chapter 11: Ruled by Emotion

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT! Finally finished grad school and now I'm finally getting it together. Hopefully, I'll start catching up on all of my fics, so thanks for sticking with me!

Chapter 11: Ruled by Emotion

The sun was beginning to set, a chill settling in as they gathered in the stables, the frantic stable-hands rushing to outfit the horses with saddles and supplies even as the knights worked to secure their weapons. Arthur mounted his horse, steering the horse into a turn with his knees so that he could ensure that the others were ready. A riding party composed of Saxons, Sarmatians, and a few Woads was assembled before him, the Saxons uneasily sitting in their saddles. As his gaze fell on the Sarmatians, he frowned when he saw that Tristan was nowhere in sight.

"Dagonet?" The large knight looked up from where he was rolling his bedroll and unhurriedly came to his feet, careful not to aggravate his injuries. "Know you where Tristan is?"

"No, Arthur." He led his horse out the stall and ever so slowly began to saddle the great beast.

"Are you certain you're ready to ride out, my friend?" Arthur asked him quietly.

"Dayn needs us. I won't stay behind." Bors came up and clapped a gentle hand on Dagonet's shoulder as he heard Dagonet's reply.

"Yeah, Arthur—he has to come with us. We all put too much effort into raising the little bastard to let the Romans take him now. We have to get him back."

"Arthur." Arthur turned to see Tristan approaching with a solemn expression, his eyes dark with worry.

"What is it, Tristan?"

"I can't find Niamh. She was with Orainne and Caderyn's woman. Now I can find none of them. Something is amiss."

Arthur turned to gaze at the corner of the stable where Caderyn was having a quiet moment with Sæthryth. Dismounting, he led the way to where the two stood, not wishing to interrupt their goodbyes, but knowing Tristan would demand it.

"You're certain you don't mind if I go with the others?" Caderyn was asking her quietly.

"He's your brother—go to him, and I will be here when you return." He kissed her soundly, only stepping away at the sound of Arthur clearing his throat pointedly.

"Sæthryth, know you where Niamh and Orainne are?"

Her face colored, and she cast her eyes down, unable to look Arthur in the eyes.

"I—I cannot say, Artair."

"Sæthryth," Arthur began, hoping to convince her to speak, but Tristan stepped forward and gripped her shoulders, turning her to face him.

"You will speak of what you know," he said, his voice low and deceptively calm.

"I promised I would say nothing," she said, gazing at him helplessly.

Arthur stepped forward, intending to cajole her even as he eased her out of Tristan's grip, but Tristan abruptly released her, stepping back with a closed expression.

"Nevermind. There's no need for answers. I know where they've gone."

"Tristan?"

"They've gone after Dayn."

"How can you be certain?"

"Where else would they go without leaving word with one of us?" Tristan pointed out blankly. Gawain swore softly, shaking his head ruefully.

"They'll get themselves killed, Arthur." Arthur was silent for a long moment, his mind racing to find a solution, but he knew with a growing sense of despair that they really had no choice.

"Gather the others—we leave now."

* * *

Cold eyes watched with a narrowed gaze, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Dayn knew he had little chance of escaping the Romans, but he also knew that if they succeeded in tearing him away from Britain, he would never return. _Better to die on British soil now than to slowly rot in Rome_. A chilling wind swept over the small band and even as the Romans shivered in the cold, Dayn relished it, embracing the cold with a heart that was all too familiar with it.

One of the soldiers met Dayn's eyes, finding himself locked with a gaze that promised death. With a shudder, the soldier looked away, nervous despite knowing that the Sarmatian was firmly secured, his hands affixed to the supply wagon by a firm chain even as he rode his horse alongside it as they rode onward.

"What is it, Marcellus?" The soldier looked up to see the captain looking at him questioningly.

"He makes me nervous, sir," Marcellus answered quietly, unable to meet his captain's eyes. Atrius's gaze shifted from Marcellus to the prisoner, examining the latter before returning to Marcellus.

"Why?"

"There's something in his eyes. I think he would kill us all if he was able. I would we just killed him now and blamed the painted ones for it."

"We have only to get him as far as Germania," Atrius told the nervous soldier with an unconcerned tone. He started to ride ahead only to turn back to fix a harsh stare on the younger soldier. "Raise not your hand to him without reason, Marcellus, or you will answer to me for it."

Atrius waited for Marcellus's reluctant nod before he rode on, irritated by the young soldier's willingness to kill a man who couldn't fight back. _I'm no fonder of Sarmatians than any other, but it's dishonorable to kill another soldier when he can't defend himself._

As second-in-command, Atrius knew well enough that their commander, Gaius, didn't concern himself with such things, convinced as he was that he and his men could do no wrong. But despite Gaius's disinclination to rein in his men, Atrius was not willing to let his subordinates act in so disgraceful a manner. So he subdued them as much as he could, trying to keep them from getting killed or shaming themselves. _Of course, after watching Gaius, I can understand where they learn their callousness. _Atrius disapproved of Gaius's methods, disgusted with his willingness to use women and children as manipulative tools. _He would dishonor us all_, Atrius thought with a sneer of disdain.With a disgusted sigh, Atrius turned back for one last glance at the prisoner, only to frown at the sense of foreboding beginning to creep up his spine. _I fear that before the next rising of the sun, we will rue the way he garnered this one's cooperation._

* * *

Darkness crept over the horizon, the sun setting behind the hills, leaving the band of Romans awash in the light of the campfires. As sleep descended upon them, Dayn remained awake, straining against his bonds as he fought to free himself. Finally, exhausted, he fell back against the wagon, no closer to escape than before. Hopelessness began to overtake him once more, and as his options dwindled, resolve grew and Dayn knew with a certainty that he would ensure the end of his captivity the only way he knew how—before they reached the sea, he would make certain they killed him.

* * *

"Orainne, do you know which way to go?" Niamh asked hesitantly. When Orainne had come to her and begged her to accompany her in pursuit of Dayn, she had willingly agreed, unwilling to let Orainne go alone. But now…now, she wasn't so certain that their plan to leave secretly was a wise one. Only Sæthryth knew they had gone, having spotted them saddling horses in the stables, and they had made her promise to say nothing. _Maybe we should have left it to the others to rescue Dayn_.

But Orainne had been so desperate that Niamh had found herself unable to tell the girl no. _There is no turning back now—we must stay the course and see it through… But are we on the right course?_ she wondered belatedly.

"The goddess leads us this way, Niamh. You must have faith."

"Which goddess do you speak of?" she asked worriedly, well aware that some deities were less than trustworthy guides.

"Nemhain."

"How do you know she will not lead us astray?" Niamh asked, even more worried at the sound of the war goddess's name.

"Because Dayn is her chosen—she will not abandon him now," Orainne told her confidently.

Urgency beat at Orainne's heart and fear gripped her. _Please, Nemhain—hold back his despair and stay his hand_, she prayed, knowing well enough that Dayn would fall on his sword before he would submit to servitude at the hands of the Romans again.

"Don't fear, Orainne—I'm sure we'll reach him in time," Niamh said softly, seeing well enough the worry on the younger woman's face.

"I cannot help it—I am fearful of what he may do."

Knowing there was little she could do to alleviate Orainne's fears, Niamh fell silent, following behind Orainne without hesitation as they rode farther and farther away from the safety of the Wall. For a time, they traveled in silence, each lost in thoughts of where the road before them might lead.

"Orainne, what will we do when we find him?" Niamh asked abruptly, suddenly breaking the quiet that had engulfed them.

"We will free him if we can. But if not, I will follow him, whatever his fate."

Niamh fell silent once more, wondering how they would possibly be able to free Dayn from the Romans. Now that they were away from the garrison, she was beginning to feel frightened. Her dealings with Romans had always been at the very least unpleasant, and she felt a frisson of fear shoot through her. Guilt was beginning to set in as well, as she thought of how the others would react to their disappearance. _We should not have forbidden __Sæthryth__to tell the knights of our plans. It was wrong of us, and now, Tristan will worry for me. _She hated the thought of him searching for her, as she knew he would, but there was no help for it, now.

"Take heart, Niamh. We shall find him, and all will be well," Orainne said softly, sensing her friend's faltering resolve. "Quickly now, we must hurry—it grows dark."

* * *

_This is foolish. We grow further and further behind as we tarry to track two women who knew not where they were going._ He estimated that they were now approximately a day behind the Romans, and it seemed unlikely that they were going to catch up to them soon. Wulflaf's sharp gaze raked over the group of Sarmatians, Saxons, and Woads who trekked through the woods, either on horseback or on foot. He currently sat astride a large black stallion, though others of his people chose to walk rather than ride. Lancelot appeared to agree with him concerning the foolishness of their tactics, expressing his annoyance to Bors and anyone else within hearing range.

"That girl causes as much damn trouble as Dayn—of course she doesn't stop to consider the folly of riding off after Dayn by herself."

"Well, if you're going to blame her, you have to blame Tristan's woman, too," Gawain reasoned.

"Just don't let Tristan hear you when you do," Bors said.

"Yes, well Niamh's part in the matter is irrelevant," Lancelot continued, "because we all know whose idea it was to go after Dayn. Niamh merely followed, probably not wanting the foolish girl to go alone. Now, I'll be the first to admit that Orainne's pleasant, and certainly, she's beautiful, but that girl has been at the root of more trouble than the Saxons and Romans combined," Lancelot griped.

"Don't be like that, Lancelot," Dagonet told him gruffly. "Her devotion to him is unquestionable—you should commend her for her loyalty to your brother-in-arms."

"Devotion and loyalty aside, Dag, she was foolish to leave, and we're foolish to follow her. She's a sweet girl, but we should be concentrating our efforts on finding Dayn and let him worry about fetching Orainne."

Had he wished to involve himself in the discussion, Wulflaf would have voiced his agreement, but he was content to listen to the others speak around him. He considered nodding, but before he could, Arthur spoke.

"Lancelot. I promised Dayn that I would look after Orainne, and I fully intend to keep that promise. If anything happened to her before we got him back, it would break him."

Lancelot's eyes dropped, and he fell silent, subdued by Arthur's words, and Wulflaf raised an eyebrow at the knight's easy capitulation at his commander's words. _Still, Arthur should consider the words of his second—Lancelot speaks wisely. Splitting our forces is_---

"Saxon, may I ride with you?"

His thoughts interrupted, Wulflaf looked down to see Caireach walking alongside him. Not certain why, he nodded, reining the horse in and holding out his hand to help her mount. He easily pulled her up behind him and she settled easily, her arms wrapping around his waist as he nudged the horse forward once more.

"So what side do you fall on?" she asked him playfully.

"What do you speak of?"

"Some of the knights think Orainne foolish for following after Dayn. Others think her actions commendable. I know you were listening. What think you?" she asked him.

"I agree with Lancelot. Her actions merely prove my own thinking on the matter. Men should not involve themselves with such foolishness as love."

"What?" Caireach asked, surprised by the vehemence of his reply.

"Because the fiery one's woman fancies herself in love, she followed him when wisdom should have prevailed. As such, Artair is forced to split his attention, pursuing her and his knight instead of his man alone. To not devote complete attention to the task at hand is folly."

"Yes, well, if it weren't for love, the peace between our peoples would have failed. It was Caderyn's love for Arthur that bade him agree to the marriage that cemented the bond between our peoples."

"You may call it love if you will, but it is politics, nothing more."

"It is more than that—have you not seen the way they gaze upon one another?" Caireach asked, aware that they were no longer speaking solely of Orainne and Dayn but of something much larger.

"Do not mistake lust for love."

"What has so hardened you against love?"

_Death_.

Caireach's arms tightened around him as he remained silent, sensing somehow the pain beneath his callous remarks.

"I could take this pain from you, if you would but let me," she murmured gently into his ear.

"Do not look for me to change, woman. Love broke me long ago, and it will not do so again—I won't let it. Turn your attention to another."

Caireach said nothing, knowing that something about him called to her. _My heart is yours, though you know it not._ She laid her cheek against his back, wishing she could ease his pain, but she knew that only Wulflaf could put the shattered pieces of his heart and soul back together. _I will wait for you, until you are ready._

* * *

Hearing a stifled cry, Niamh's eyes opened and she looked over to see Orainne crying out in her sleep, a pained expression on her face.

"Orainne, wake up," Niamh said softly. Orainne jerked awake, her eyes filling with tears as she stared up at Niamh. "What is it, Orainne?"

"You have to go back," Orainne cried softly.

"What?"

"You have to go back for the others. They're coming, and we're going to need their help, but you must show them the way. I fear they are taking the wrong path. Or we do," she added softly.

"I thought you were certain of the direction."

"Yes, but now I fear that if I chose wrongly, I lead them astray. Dayn needs them, and I could not bear it if they were to fail him because they follow me away from him."

"But you can't go on alone, Orainne!"

"I have to," Orainne told her regretfully, her face worried even as she gazed back at her friend resolutely.

"No, don't. Please, come with me," Niamh begged, afraid for her friend as she thought of the Romans they pursued.

"I can't, Niamh," she said softly, laying a hand on Niamh's arm. "Niamh, please, you must do this for me."

Staring into Orainne's eyes, tears began to well up in her own at the thought of letting her only friend go on alone into certain danger. But she knew well enough that without help, the two of them would never be able to free Dayn.

"Alright, Orainne," she said tearfully. "But wait for us—don't act until we reach you."

"I won't act unless I must," Orainne promised, and Niamh knew that was the best she could hope for. With a final hug, Niamh turned back, and Orainne watched her go before she sighed and pushed onward, continuing on despite the weariness that was beginning to pull at her.

_He's close, I know it. Only a little further._

* * *

As the sun was beginning to descend upon the Roman camp, Atrius looked up from his preparations for nightfall, frowning at the sound of a commotion at the edge of camp. With a weary sigh, he dropped the bedroll he carried, certain that he was going to have to once again break up an insignificant argument brought on by inane insults traded between idiots. Nearby, the prisoner stirred, his steely eyes locking onto him, tracking him with frightening intensity as Atrius stalked towards the crowd of soldiers within view.

"MOVE," he yelled, expecting the soldiers massed together to part for him. At the sound of his voice, they immediately dispersed to allow him through. As they moved aside, Atrius frowned in no small measure of confusion as he beheld what exactly they were clustered around. A young woman, obviously pregnant based on the way she held her arms protectively over her middle, huddled on the ground, her tearstained face gazing back defiantly at the Romans.

"What is this?" Atrius asked, his tone demanding an answer. Before anyone could answer, the prisoner caught sight of her and began to struggle, yelling her name as he yanked at his bonds.

"Sir, I found her in the brush," one of the soldiers announced, but another shoved him aside.

"If you touch her again, I'll kill you!" Dayn screamed, causing the soldier to back up hesitantly, but before the man could respond, Gaius, their commander, strolled over, eyeing the girl appraisingly before glancing back at the Sarmatian.

"She's your little Woad bitch, isn't she?" he said callously, turning back to face Orainne.

"If you harm her, I swear by all the gods that my soul won't rest until you fall to my sword!" Dayn yelled, rage pouring into him as he watched the Roman lift Orainne to her feet, pulling her against him.

"She's certainly a pretty thing, isn't she?" Gaius said. "Perhaps I'll keep her for myself."

Dayn lunged forward, straining against the chains that held him, a wordless roar building in his throat.

"Take her to my tent," Gaius ordered. As Marcellus and Quintus took hold of a struggling Orainne, Dayn's rage ignited, exploding in a frenzy of wordless screams that erupted as though from the very depths of the underworld.

"Sir," Atrius began, not at all certain of his commander's desire to keep the girl for himself. "Are you certain this is wise?"

"I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter, Captain."

"I'm merely concerned that her presence will hinder our progress--she's with child, and we face the added risk of having to handle the prisoner when he's like that," Atrius reasoned, motioning with his head towards the enraged Sarmatian. "It's a long way to Germania, sir."

"Don't concern yourself, Captain. I have no intention of touching the girl."

"So you're taunting him, then?"

"You disapprove?" Gaius asked mockingly.

Atrius, sensing a growing irritation in his commander, wisely refrained from voicing his true opinion and stepped back.

"No, sir."

"Good. Tell the men to leave the Sarmatian alone until he calms. They'll only get themselves hurt," he said, casting a disdainful look over his shoulder at where the prisoner was still fighting to free himself.

"Yes, sir."

Hours later, Atrius wondered if the Sarmatian would ever calm himself. It seemed as though the rage of the gods compelled him, sustaining his frenzied attempts to get to his woman. Darkness had fallen hours ago, and still he raged. No one slept that night.

Finally, as the sun began to rise, the Sarmatian went silent, falling into an exhausted stupor. With the sudden cessation of sound, the Romans began to relax into sleep at last and when the last soldier fell asleep, Atrius slowly stood and approached the prisoner, who watched him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Your woman remains unharmed, Sarmatian," Atrius told him quietly. A glimmer of hope entered into Dayn's eyes, and he gazed up with questioning eyes, seeking further reassurance. "The commander said he had no intentions of harming her. She is safe for now."

Dayn opened his mouth to think the man, but hours of screaming had taken their toll, leaving his throat raw and painful. He settled for a nod before finally succumbing to the pull of exhaustion. _Nemhain, if ever you have valued my service to you, keep her safe for me,_ he thought as the world went blissfully dark even as the sun rose on the horizon.

* * *

Wulflaf frowned, reining in his horse as his body went still, his senses alert for any sign of what had alerted him

"What is it?" Caireach whispered from behind him. She had assumed a place behind him in the saddle as though she belonged there, and Wulflaf briefly considered why exactly he had allowed her to make it her custom to ride with him. As another noise attracted his attention, he shoved all thoughts of her aside and attuned his senses to his surroundings.

"Wulflaf?" Caireach asked, attempting to prompt an answer.

"Be quiet, woman," he snapped, straining to hear. She huffed in annoyance, but fell silent, annoyed but obedient for the moment. A twig snapped nearby and Caireach's eyes widened even as Wulflaf pulled his sword from the scabbard.

Suddenly, a woman on horseback broke through the brush, her frightened eyes clashing with Wulflaf's icy stare.

"Tristan—where is he?" she asked, and Wulflaf lowered his sword, recognizing her for the silent knight's woman.

"He rides ahead. They look for you and the fiery one's woman. Is she with you?"

Before Niamh could answer, Tristan rode forward, dismounting and reaching up to lift her from the saddle in a seamless move, pulling her into his arms without any resistance from Niamh.

"Are you unharmed?" he murmured softly against her hair as he held her to him.

"Yes. But we mustn't tarry. Orainne said that we would need your help."

"Where is she?"

"She went on without me—I told her to wait," she said as she saw the scowl appearing on his face at the thought of Orainne's folly. "But she was adamant that we hadn't the time to spare. I worry for her," she said softly.

"And worry you should," Wulflaf said brusquely. Niamh looked up at him with fearful eyes, even as Tristan cast a glare at the Saxon. "A woman without fighting skills who pursues her lover into danger invites trouble. And she will no doubt find it with the Romans." Caireach's arms tightened around him, silently asking him to say no more to the stricken woman.

"Tristan, I'm afraid she'll be hurt—please, you have to reach her before she encounters the Romans. I told her to wait for us, but I fear she won't," Niamh pleaded with him, her fingers gripping his tunic desperately.

"We will. Go back to the fort and wait for us there."

"No, I'm going with you."

_Somehow,_ _I find myself unsurprised_, Wulflaf thought dryly at the woman's response.

"Niamh, it's not safe," Tristan replied bluntly.

"She's my friend, Tristan—the only one I have. I cannot stay behind."

He stared at her for a long moment before giving an abrupt nod, lifting her onto his saddle before tying the reins of her horse to his own and remounting.

Wulflaf shook his head, glancing back at Caireach with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" she asked, confused by his look.

"I will never understand your people and the Sarmatians. Too willing to be ruled by women and emotion. Nothing good can come of it," he remarked as he watched the Sarmatian knight take the lead once more, his woman secure against him.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Saxon," Caireach replied teasingly. "There's something to be said for letting a woman rule you from time to time," she said with a smile. Wulflaf smiled before he could stop himself, amused by the woman's forwardness. "Is that a smile?" she asked, a playful gleam in her eyes.

Not deigning to answer, Wulflaf spurred his horse, passing some of the others who rode nearby even as Caireach's laughter rang in his ears.

_Women are nothing but trouble_, he thought with a grimace. _At least we have only to find the other one, and if the gods favor us, she'll be near her man so we'll not be troubled further, _he thought as he caught up with several of the knights.

"Ah, Wulflaf, think of it this way," Lancelot called out, recognizing the irritated look on Wulflaf's face for what it was, "at least we know now that Orainne is on the right track," he said with a laugh. "We find her and we find Dayn."

"May the gods be praised for small favors," Wulflaf responded, saying nothing more as he and the others heeded the call to increase their speed. _Of course, with this group, anything that can go wrong will go wrong._

* * *

A/N: Ok, so here it is, finally! I decided to go ahead and cut it here, instead of trying to squeeze everything into one chapter. But the good news is, it shouldn't take me as long to get the next chapter up, because a lot of it is already written! Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me despite the torment of waiting that I've put you all through. For those of you who sent signed reviews, I sent replies to you directly. Anonymous reviewers will find messages below.

**dmitchell**: Thanks for being understanding about the whole "grad-school-is-monopolizing-all-my-time-and-I-have-no-life" bit that's been keeping me from writing. I graduated in May, so I'm hoping that I'll have more time and energy to put into my fics now. With any luck, updates will come quicker. Thanks so much for reviewing!

**Just a fan**: I absolutely loved your review! I wish I could have responded to you sooner, so that I could thank you for being so enthusiastic and encouraging, but alas, I could not. I hope you haven't given up on the story yet, seeing as how I made you wait many months for this update. I don't want to give anything away as far as whether everyone lives or dies, but I will say, I'm very cautious about killing any of my characters. I'm glad you like Orainne—she's not as important character-wise, so she often gets only minor scenes, so it's nice that someone notices and likes her. Of course, minor characters often become more important (e.g. Caderyn and Hummingbird). Hope this chapter answered your question about Gawain coming to terms with Cade's marriage. I've got ideas for who Hummingbird may end up with, but whether it makes it into a fic is questionable…if it doesn't, I'll just tell you at some point. Thanks for your review, and hope you're rockin' in your SpongeBob SquarePants socks!


	12. Chapter 12: Peace Only Through Death

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for the delay. I totally suck. Oh, and as usual, the freakin' long time it took me to produce this means that I didn't have a beta check over it. So forgive the mistakes!

Chapter 12: Peace Only through Death

Atrius's eyes snapped open, his body covered in a cold sweat that left him shivering in the night air. He couldn't say what had woken him, but the sense of dread uncoiling in his stomach told him that trouble was soon to be upon them. His eyes searched the shadows, trying to discern what had disturbed him, but nothing moved in the darkness. Having spent the majority of the day traveling with one eye on the Sarmatian and the other on the Sarmatian's woman, he felt the need for sleep dragging at him, but he pushed his weariness aside as he cast a look at where the prisoner slouched in an exhausted slumber nearby. He'd said not a word all day, an eerie change from the previous night's shouting, which had left the men nervous and guarded.

After watching the Sarmatian for a long moment, he concluded that the boy was, in fact, asleep, but the anxious feeling that gripped Atrius persisted. He slowly came to his feet, and took a step towards the treeline. Spotting Jorus, the sixteen-year-old assigned the night watch, sleeping against a nearby tree, Atrius jerked him up by the neck of his tunic, easily blocking the boy's meager attempt to throw off the hands that held him.

"Do you understand the danger you have placed us in?" Atrius demanded, his voice conveying the anger he felt at Jorus's failure. "You leave us vulnerable to attack!"

"I-I-I'm sorry, sir!" Jorus stuttered, shame bringing a flush to his face.

"You were told to walk the perimeter and be on your guard in case we are pursued or attacked—youth is no excuse for dereliction of duty," Atrius said sternly.

"Yessir," the young soldier replied, looking at his feet miserably.

"Go back to your tent and sleep," Atrius said gruffly, taking pity on the boy despite his failure. "I will finish your watch myself and, we shall discuss your compensation."

"Yes, sir," he replied, his head down as he walked past Atrius.

"Oh, and Jorus?" Jorus turned back to see Atrius's intense gaze on him, and he swallowed, afraid that Atrius may have decided to punish him after all.

"I expect better next time," was all Atrius told him, not unkindly, and Jorus silently breathed a sigh of relief.

"You will have it, sir," Jorus told him determinedly, vowing not to fail his captain again.

Atrius watched Jorus disappear into the darkness before he began to walk the perimeter, once again searching for the cause of his disturbance. He halted before the prisoner, staring down at the slumbering Sarmatian before he gazed around with obvious unease.

_His people won't merely sit by and let us take him. They will come for him, when we are most vulnerable to attack. Nighttime. They will fight for him, and the gods will favor them, for they fight for one of their own, while we fight simply because we are following orders. If we fight here, we will die here. _

Though he was not afraid to fight, his father had taught him long ago not to engage in a battle he couldn't win. Not unless it was a battle he was prepared to die fighting in. He wasn't afraid of death, but he wasn't willing to die for nothing either.

_No, we cannot fight without many deaths, and it is a battle we will not win. But what is the alternative? They slaughter us all, and Rome sends another unit to capture the Sarmatian, another unit who will no doubt die as well._ He pondered for a moment before coming to a grim conclusion. _It would be best for all of us if the Sarmatian were to die here._

With a grave expression, he knelt beside the prisoner, glancing around to ensure that no one was in sight.

"Sarmatian."

Dayn stirred, his eyes opening wearily to behold the Roman soldier crouched down before him. Just as the muscles in his legs tensed in preparation to leap at the man, something, a sense of misgiving, gave him pause. He stilled, watching with wary eyes as the Roman moved closer, leaning down to whisper.

"Your people come for you."

"How do you know this? And why tell me?" Dayn asked, his gaze dark with suspicion.

"I can only say that my instinct tells me they will not let us reach the shoreline, and my instinct has rarely failed me."

"That still doesn't explain why you would tell me this," Dayn pointed out, his eyes narrowed.

"You and I both know that either yours or mine will die if they are to catch up to us, as I know they will."

"So what do you propose?"

"Well, if you were to die, there would no longer be a reason to fight."

Dayn's body went rigid as the Roman's words sank in, and he prepared to fight, knowing that he wasn't prepared to die until Orainne was safe. He eyed the sword hanging at the Roman's waist and began to ease closer to it, when a voice whispered through his mind. "_Wait."_ Struck by the familiarity of the voice, he subsided, staring in blank confusion at the soldier still crouched beside him, unmoving.

"What stays your hand?" Dayn asked, trying to ignore his instinctive urge to attack as he studied the Roman's pensive look, perplexed by the inner struggle that seemed to be taking place within the Roman. _Nemhain, I pray you're not leading me astray._

"I must consider certain practicalities. The manner of your demise must be such that no one will ask questions," the Roman said softly.

"What sort of --," Dayn began, but at the stirring in his mind, he fell silent, his focus turning inward as Nemhain began to speak.

"_Peace, Dayn. Though I know it's not a quality you possess in abundance, you must be patient."_

Atrius frowned as Dayn suddenly stilled, uncertain what had caused the Sarmatian's gaze to become so vacant.

"_Nemhain?"_

"_Yes?"_ she replied kindly.

"_I've done much for you and yours…I would ask that you now save me and mine from the Romans."_

"_I won't have to," she told him, her beguiling voice whispering through his mind. _

"_What mean you?"_

"_Trust the Roman before you now—he will help you."_

"_Trust a Roman? That's madness. And this one says he's going to kill me," Dayn said incredulously, forgetting that he was arguing with a goddess._

"_Did he say that?" she asked teasingly._

"_Well of course he did—you heard him!"_

"_No, I heard him say that it would be best for you to die, not that he would kill you."_

_Dayn started to argue, only to pause, realizing that she was right._

"_But what difference does it make? He wants me dead, doesn't he?" he asked in frustration._

"_You'll just have to wait and see—I so do love a good ruse."_

"_So, what now? You expect me to simply trust my fate and that of Orainne to some Roman?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Why would he help us? And why would he do your bidding? It doesn't make any sense," Dayn pointed out, rising aggravation in his voice._

"_He does not act for my benefit, but rather for some purpose of his own."_

"_Now that, I can believe," he replied with disdain. "Romans can always be counted upon to act in their own interests."_

"_All beings act in their own interests, Dayn. And though he may act of his own volition, I'll take advantage when opportunity arises."_

"_Are you certain about this?"_

"_Yes. Do as he tells you, and you will be free of the Romans."_

"_And I won't be dead?" he asked her with a cocky grin._

He felt her amusement, even as he felt her presence recede from his mind, and he was suddenly aware that the Roman was staring at him uneasily.

"What do you need me to do, Roman?"

"You are a strange one, boy."

"I could say the same of you," Dayn replied, a ghost of a smile on his face as he cocked a brow at the Roman.

"I must act quickly. I need something to take to your people, something that will ensure they won't kill me at first sight."

"Why?" Dayn asked with a frown.

"Do not question, Sarmatian, we don't have time. They're close—I can sense it."

Dayn nodded, still a bit hesitant at trusting the Roman before him, but knowing he didn't have much choice. He thought for a minute before staring resolutely up at the soldier.

"The woad. There's some in Orainne's bag. Smear it on your face before you go to them."

With a resolute nod, Atrius came to his feet, prepared to retrieve the blue paint, even though it meant gaining entry into Gaius's tent, where the girl remained.

"Oh, and Roman?"

"Yes?"

"Lose the red cloak—only Romans are so foolish as to wear such bright colors in a forest. They'll know you for a Roman at first sight, and they'd just as soon kill you as look at you."

Atrius smiled marginally before turning his back on Dayn, leaving the Sarmatian to wonder and hope that he was doing the right thing.

* * *

Atrius crouched at the opening of Gaius's tent, using his dagger to silently slice through the cord holding the opening closed. Soundlessly, he crept through the opening he'd made, kneeling just inside to let his eyes adjust to the darkness within. He quickly pulled the flaps of the tent opening back into place, preventing any stray light from entering and waking the sleeping commander.

Within a moment, the darkness seemed to recede, and he could actually see his hand in front of his face, allowing him to look around. He quickly spotted the girl curled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around her middle and tear-tracks marring the smudges of dirt on her face. He shuffled quietly toward her, casting a glance at his commander to ensure he was still asleep before dropping to his knees beside the girl. Not wanting to startle her, he bent over her and gently blew a puff of air at her cheek. She stirred, her eyes fluttering, and Atrius quickly leaned back so as to appear non-threatening.

When she saw him beside her, she gasped and began to scoot away from him, and Atrius's eyes widened in alarm at the realization that if she woke Gaius, she could single-handedly destroy his plans before he got a chance to implement them. _Damn, girl, don't ruin this. _He held his hands out by his sides, hoping she'd realize he meant her no harm, even as he glanced once more at Gaius. Catching his look, she followed his gaze to the still-sleeping Roman commander before her eyes darted back to meet Atrius's.

He could see the fear and mistrust in her eyes as he motioned her forward. He knew well enough that every passing second increased his chances of being discovered, but there was no hope for it. _I need her cooperation if this is to work_.

She hesitantly moved back toward him, her hands chained awkwardly before her, and Atrius winced at the sound of the chains clinking against one another. The girl winced, too, he noticed, and she quietly gathered them ever-so-slowly into her arms, effectively silencing the noise. He waited for her to stop before he bent his head and whispered into her ear.

"The woad. I need it."

She withdrew to stare at him, her confusion obvious. Biting her lip, she touched her face, rubbing her hand over her cheek questioningly. Recognizing the gesture for what it was—a representation of painting one's face—he nodded. Her eyes seemed piercing as she looked at him intently, trying to figure out why he had come to her for the woad. _Don't question it, girl—just give me what I need_, he prayed, hoping she wouldn't demand an explanation.

Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, and without a word, she reached back with almost painful slowness, leaving Atrius to watch impatiently as she pulled a cloth satchel towards her. Her small hand slipped inside the bag, emerging with a small clay jar. He held out his hand for it, only to frown when she shook her head. She unstoppered the jar and dipped two fingers inside. When her fingertips were liberally covered with the blue paint, she stretched her arm out toward him, making her intentions to paint him known. Nodding, he slid closer to her, allowing her to cover his face with painted swirls of the blue woad.

When she finished, he nodded his thanks and started to leave. But as he looked back at her, meeting her piercing gaze, he knew with a sinking feeling that he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave her behind. _Of course, if I succeed, mayhap everyone will believe she has simply escaped. They'll have no cause to suspect that anything is amiss_. Knowing his rationalization was less than perfect, he nevertheless turned back, his hands reaching for her chains.

"Traitorous cur!"

Gaius's voice roared out of the darkness, and Atrius knew without a doubt that he was well and truly caught, and there would be no escape.

"Sir, I have acted only in the interests of our soldiers," he said calmly, even as he felt the edge of Gaius's sword come to rest against his throat.

"You betray us! You betray Rome!"

"If we keep the Sarmatian and his woman, only death awaits us," Atrius responded, his voice ringing with conviction. "I sought only to save us from that fate. You were to lead us all back to Rome, but you will lead us only to death."

"The only death here will be your own, Atrius, for you will die for your treachery. Guards!"

"So be it," Atrius said grimly. "If we are meant to die at the hands of Arthur's Sarmatians, then nothing I do can stop that now. And if I am meant to die this night at your hands, then my fate is sealed, and I do not fear it, nor do I resist it. It simply is the way of things. But I can only hope that your foolishness will not seal the fates of those under your command," he finished, staring at his commander with a sneer of revulsion.

As the guards put him in shackles and roughly pulled him to his feet, Atrius met Orainne's gaze, his eyes offering a silent apology. With a resigned sigh, he allowed the guards to lead him away, unresisting, toward his fate.

* * *

As he watched two Roman soldiers force Atrius to his knees, Dayn looked on with a growing sense of dread and confusion as they secured him to another post close by. _Surely this wasn't part of the plan_, he thought. _Why does he not fight back? _Not wishing to ask questions while the Roman guards remained, Dayn did not speak, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he found himself reaching out once more for answers.

"_Nemhain? I don't mean to be a bother, but in case you failed to notice, I'm no freer than I was before, and now the Roman is in chains beside me."_ A long moment passed, and Dayn was afraid that the answers he longed for were not going to be forthcoming, when suddenly she answered.

"_He changed the plan."_

"_What do you mean? How?"_ Dayn asked.

"_He was only going to fetch the woad from Orainne and leave the saving of her to you and the others. But he found himself unable to leave her behind any longer. It was a mistake in judgment, one that will get him killed for his efforts. But he was right—the others are coming for you."_

"_What will happen to the Roman?"_

"_It is not for me to say."_

Dayn , watching silently as the guards checked to ensure that Atrius couldn't escape before they left, one of them leaving Atrius with a parting kick to the side that the captured Roman took without a sound.

"What happened?" Dayn asked softly.

"A moment of foolish sentimentality. Your woman has the kind of eyes that make a man feel too much, Sarmatian. I thought to help her escape."

"She gave you that look, didn't she?" Dayn asked with a knowing smile. "The one that's so guilt-wracking that you can't ignore it."

"That she did. After that, things no longer went according to plan. I'm sorry, Sarmatian."

"In all fairness, I can't fault you for succumbing to her look. It's the sole reason I can never truly win an argument with her."

Atrius smiled, appreciating the lighthearted banter of the young Sarmatian.

"Cheer up, Roman," Dayn said when Atrius didn't speak. "My people will surely come, and all will be well."

"My fate is sealed, Sarmatian, but I wish you and your woman well."

"Look, as much as I despise Romans, you tried to help. I won't let you die for that."

"You cannot control fate, my young friend."

"Fate owes me. That bitch has taken almost everything from me, and she has much to atone for. She can start here."

Atrius looked over, wondering silently what sacrifices had caused the deep-seated pain and anger in the Sarmatian's gaze. Whatever it was, Atrius didn't doubt that the Sarmatian meant what he said. _Still, hope is for children, and it is best not to harbor such fantasies._

"I'm called Dayn," the Sarmatian said, interrupting Atrius's reverie. "What do they call you?"

"Atrius."

"Well, Atrius," Dayn said, eyeing the Roman's woad-painted visage, "I must say…you look good in blue."

"How you can jest when things are so dire is beyond me," Atrius said dryly.

"It's a talent, one that I've spent years honing to a fine art," Dayn said with a smirk. "Besides, I've been in worse situations before. And I have it on good authority that we're going to get out of this."

"I will leave you your hopes then."

"I also have you to thank for restoring my hope, my friend," Dayn said after a moment. His eyes met Atrius's, his gratitude evident in his gaze as he looked upon the weary Roman officer. Atrius nodded in lieu of a response before closing his eyes and letting his head fall back to rest against the post that restrained him.

"Other than my commander, I have never called another Roman 'friend.' I've hated your people since I was eight years old."

"So young," Atrius murmured, his quiet gaze meeting Dayn's, the hint of a question in his voice.

"Being young didn't stop the Roman soldiers from killing my twin brother and taking me away to serve their damned Empire, did it?"

"I am sorry for your loss."

"Don't be," Dayn said with a dark smirk, "I've made it a lifelong goal to see that your people atone for it."

"Your spirit in the face of adversity is admirable. God looks favorably upon you."

"Spare me your Roman beliefs—isn't my captivity torment enough?" Dayn replied jokingly.

"Your wit certainly hasn't abandoned you, boy."

"It's served me well all my life," Dayn told him with a grin. Changing course a bit, Dayn looked over at the Roman with an innocent, earnest expression on his face. "Atrius, it occurs to me that these Roman dogs could use a bit of excitement—after all, we wouldn't want them to get too comfortable. And, well, my yelling certainly seems to keep them anxious, so I was thinking of a repeat performance. What do you think?" he asked, having wordlessly accepted the Roman as one of his own and a Roman no longer.

"Forgive me, my friend, but I myself am weary from your mischief—I haven't the spirit for it tonight."

"Ah, well. Perhaps another night, then," Dayn said easily, shaking his head regretfully.

"If I live that long, I shall look forward to it," Atrius replied with a weary smile.

"You think they look to execute you on the morrow?"

"I have committed a treasonous act, Dayn—the penalty for that is death."

Dayn fell silent, his earlier mirth forgotten in light of Atrius's revelation. The Roman could see that his announcement had both stunned and dismayed the nineteen-year-old, and he felt a sense of sadness stir in him at the innocence in the boy that could still be surprised by a death sentence despite a lifetime of exposure to war and death. He let his eyes close as the lure of sleep drew him in, promising a blessed relief from the trials of this life when next he woke. If it was his death that awaited him on the morrow, then it would be a death he would embrace willingly. Death would bring with it peace.

Troubled, Dayn watched him for a long time before falling into a restless sleep, his final thoughts of the irony of worrying about the fate of a Roman soldier.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so I intended to go ahead with the rescue in this chapter, but that's not exactly how it ended up. In trying to write the bridge sections to get to the rescue, they sort of took on a life of their own and now we have Chapter 12 as is. But the rescue chapter is already in the works, so it won't be long!

**Just a fan**: I think I did better this time about not making you wait forever for the next update—hooray, I'm getting better about updating in a timely fashion! Ok, well, it was only two months this time…better than a year, right?? I will definitely fill you in on Hummingbird, whether I write it up or not, so fear not! Don't worry about me killing off characters—I really don't kill off major characters in my fics. Minor ones, perhaps, but never major ones. Which is why Tristan, Lancelot, and Dagonet are still featured in my fic—LOL. Anyways, thanks as always for reviewing! I look forward to hearing what you think about this chapter!

**chiefhow**: Orainne, bless her little heart, does stir up trouble for Dayn—always getting captured, you know. But she served a purpose in this chapter—moved my plans forward! Oh, and Gaius is going to get what's coming to him—I think you'll like what I have in mind. I've already started typing up the next chapter, so hopefully, it won't be another two months before I finish it. Thanks for reviewing, and I hope you'll let me know how you liked this one!

**Artemis Darkclaw**: Glad you liked the last chapter and the new addition to the story (Atrius). Sometimes I worry that I add too many characters into the mix. I also had the same problem with this chapter that I did with the last—knowing where to stop. I had hoped to get to the rescue in this chapter, but it wasn't fitting well. So I've shoved that into Chapter 13 (hmm, unlucky number…does that bode ill for the rescue, or the chapter?) and I've already started working on it. Expect more Wulf/Caireach bits in the next chapter also. Anyways, thanks for reviewing! Let me know what you think about this one!


	13. Chapter 13: Holding Back the Tide

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

A/N: To all of you out there that still bother to read this, I profusely apologize for making you wait an agonizing four months for an update. But at least it wasn't a year this time, right? To recap, Caderyn has married the Saxon woman Sæthryth in order to cement ties between the Sarmatian/Woad contingent and the Saxons (led by Wulflaf). At the wedding, Dayn is taken by a force of Romans because unlike the other Sarmatians, his term of service is not over. Orainne and Niamh (Tristan's girl) foolishly follow, and the others are forced to divert from the planned rescue mission in order to pursue the two women. Orainne sends Niamh back only to be captured herself, In the Roman camp, a Roman captain named Atrius, feeling certain that a rescue mission is imminent and poses a threat to the camp, but his commander refuses to listen. Atrius, taking matters into his own hands, attempts to free Orainne and Dayn, only to be caught and branded a traitor. Meanwhile, the rescue party (made up of Saxons, Woads, and Sarmatians) has finally reached the Roman camp…

Chapter 13: Holding Back the Tide

Standing in the shadows beside Gar, Wulflaf felt a surge of anticipation beginning to build as Arthur halted them at the edge of the tree line within visual range of the Roman camp. His calculating mind immediately began to assess the weaknesses of the enemy, quickly noting the lack of sentries on the eastern side of the camp. He was beginning to calculate possible approaches, when several of the Sarmatians, Merlin, and Arthur came up beside him, interrupting his train of thought.

"What's the plan, Artair?" Gar asked, the gleam of expectation in his eyes matching Wulflaf's.

"We split our forces," Arthur said after a few moments of silent observation. "We'll attack from all sides and hopefully cause their men to panic."

"Panic is good," Wulflaf said approvingly. "We can herd them to the center of camp like animals to slaughter."

"I'm with the Saxon on this one," Gawain said, an eagerness in his voice as his fist tightened around the handle of his axe.

"Wulflaf, I'd like to divide our peoples among myself, you, and Merlin," Arthur began, turning his grim gaze upon the stoic Saxon.

"I suppose you wish me to take women along," Wulflaf said dryly.

"I would like that, yes," Arthur told him with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Wulflaf sighed and nodded his assent with only a hint of his reluctance.

"I have only one provision," Wulflaf said abruptly. "Keep that one with you," he said, nodding towards Guenevere, who stood with a group of Woads nearby.

"Take Caireach with you, then—she favors you, and she's a strong leader—she can choose which Woads will best suit you," Merlin said quietly. Wulflaf nodded quietly, squelching the sense of pleasure spreading inside him at the thought of the raven-haired Woad woman.

"I would have you take Drefan with you, Artair," he said gruffly, purposefully choosing not to comment on Merlin's remark. "Drefan is young and is in need of guidance."

"Supervision is more like it," Gar mumbled under his breath, earning himself a strong elbow to the gut from Drefan, who scowled at him.

"Very well," Arthur replied, sparing a smile for the two Saxons' antics before addressing Wulflaf. "I'll send Caderyn and Lancelot with you, Wulflaf, and Dagonet, I'd like you and Tristan to go with Merlin. Bors and Gawain will stay with me, and I'll take Guenevere with us as well."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Lancelot commented, sharing a smirk with Wulflaf before wilting under Arthur's glare. With an apologetic shrug, Lancelot followed Wulflaf as they walked away to gather their forces. "You know, Wulflaf, Arthur just has no sense of humor these days," he remarked with a gleam in his eye.

"Men rarely do when a woman is involved," Wulflaf retorted.

"And that, my friend, is just another in a long list of reasons why becoming attached to one woman is foolish. Best to enjoy the favors of many and get close to none," Lancelot told him, uncertain exactly when he had ceased to joke and had become serious.

"Sometimes enjoying the favors comes with too high a price as well, Lancelot. You would do well to remember that." Wulflaf brushed past the other knight, his icy stare cutting through Lancelot with a heavy look before he walked away.

* * *

As they knelt in the brush, gazing down upon the Roman camp from their vantage point to the west, Caireach glanced at Wulflaf beside her, his sharp, piercing gaze scanning the silent camp, searching for any weaknesses he could exploit. With a soft smile, she leaned into him, resting her hand on the broad expanse of his back as she laid her head on his shoulder. He cast a look at her, a look that wasn't quite a scowl, but he didn't protest, and Caireach hid a smile, even as she shifted her attention back to the Roman camp. _Soon. Soon, we'll make our move, and they'll be caught completely unaware. _They were merely waiting for just the right moment, she knew, but waiting was harder than fighting. 

"It won't be long now, Wulf," Caireach murmured softly in his ear, knowing he was just as impatient as she for the attack to commence. Nestled against Wulflaf as she was, Caireach knew the precise moment that his large body began to tense, the muscles in his back and shoulders becoming taut with unease.

"What is it?" she whispered, her fingers curling into a loose fist against his back.

He could feel her beside him, more than just her physical presence, and it bothered him. He frowned at the tumult of emotions she stirred in him, and he immediately sought to curb the swell of feeling, not wanting to feel the icy wall around his heart weaken under the onslaught. _I cannot be that vulnerable again. Twice before I have let myself feel too much, and I received nothing but grief for my trouble. _He could still remember the last time he'd held Maidha in his arms, alive and happy…

_Wulflaf's gaze softened as he watched Maidha come toward him, skirting adeptly around the numerous obstacles in her path before she joined him behind a grouping of tents. He pulled her toward him, catching her mouth with his as he dropped his guard for just a moment, allowing the depth of his feelings for her to consume him as the tide of passion swept them away for a brief moment._

"_Did anyone see you, love?" Wulflaf asked, pulling away to stare down at her._

"_No."_

"_Good. We can't afford for Cerdic to hear of this. He guards his possessions fiercely."_

_She wrapped her arms around him, then, fear swelling in her at the thought of Cerdic's wrath should they be caught. _

"_When will we be free of him?"_

"_Be patient, my love. Soon, I'll have all that I need with which to bargain for your freedom. Soon, we can leave this behind us." Nodding, she buried her face in his chest, comforted by the feel of his arms wrapping around her, holding her to him. Stretching up on her toes, she kissed him, laughing quietly as he lowered his head for her, smiling against her mouth before he returned the kiss. His hands lowered, falling to her waist and holding her in the cradle of his hips, the two of them slowly rocking back and forth. They remained there, locked together for what seemed like forever even while it didn't seem like long enough, before Maidha reluctantly pulled away._

"_Wulf, I have to go—I've tarried too long as it is."_

"_Be careful," he murmured, letting her go. As much as he wanted to protest, he knew she was right. They could ill afford for someone to notice how long Maidha had been missing. He watched her hurry away, waiting until she was out of sight to turn. Only to freeze as he saw Cynric standing there, watching him with a gleam in his eye._

"_You certainly live dangerously, lusting after Father's slave that way. But I suppose blood tells. It's fitting that you would lust after one of your own kind."_

"_You know naught of what you speak," Wulflaf told him coldly._

"_You care for her." It wasn't a question, and Wulflaf stiffened at his half-brother's words. _

"_Do not speak of her, Cynric. I warn you."_

"_In seeking to deny my words, you merely confirm them," Cynric sneered. "Mayhap there's more to the girl than I thought. Perhaps I'll ask Father to give her to me."_

_Wulflaf moved then, quicker than Cynric could react, grabbing the younger man by the throat and slamming him against a wooden post around which the camp often gathered._

"_Mark my words,_brother_—if you touch her, I _will_ kill you, Cerdic's wrath be damned." His hand tightened around Cynric's throat menacingly for a long moment before he released him and turned away. _

Looking back, he only wished that he'd throttled the life from his brother then, when he'd had the chance. He'd regret that failure for the rest of his life, he knew. _No, I cannot be that vulnerable again—it cannot happen again. It will not. _And yet, he found himself moving, rising to his knees, jostling Caireach who sat back with a quizzical expression on her face as she stared at him in the dark.

"You will stay behind me," Wulflaf told her abruptly, his cold eyes burning with intensity as he turned his head to stare at her.

"I am no stranger to battle, Wulflaf—I do not need you to shield me from our enemies."

He grabbed her then, roughly gripping her shoulders as he jerked her forward, his face impassive despite the emotions swirling in his normally placid gaze.

"Do not mistake my words for a simple request—you _will_ stay behind me, woman. Do not defy me on this matter," he said darkly. _I will not lose another as I lost my mother or Maidha._ He would never forget the pain he'd felt upon learning of her death, of his brother's ultimate betrayal.

_A blow to his face brought Wulflaf out of a sound sleep, and he immediately reacted, rolling away from the perpetrator, even as he grabbed for his sword. A heavy foot slammed down onto his wrist, forcing him to lose his grip on the hilt of his sword, even as he endured another strike. Darkness beckoned at the corners of his vision, but he fought it, struggling to stay conscious. Glancing up, he saw his father standing over him, a look of dark fury on his features as he delivered a well-aimed kick at Wulflaf's ribs._

"_My lord," Wulflaf began, well aware that Cerdic would never allow Wulflaf to address him otherwise, always disavowing the blood-ties between them._

"_Speak not to me, Wulflaf, else you will force me to remedy the situation—you can't speak without your tongue, can you?" Knowing well enough that Cerdic wouldn't hesitate to cut his tongue out, Wulflaf fell silent, not making a sound as Cerdic's fist smashed into his jaw once again. The coppery taste of blood pooled in his mouth, and he spit it out only a moment before a heavy hand gripped his shoulder, dragging him out into the cool air of dawn before dropping him to the ground without pause. _

"_Bring him," Cerdic said coldly, and Arlys and Tolan rushed forward, each of them grabbing one of Wulflaf's arms and dragging him behind as they followed Cerdic. They reached the gathering post at the center of camp—the very same post that Wulflaf had slammed his brother into the night before—as the entire camp looked on, warriors and slaves alike crowding around to see what was happening. With a quick gesture, Arlys and Tolan made quick work of tying Wulflaf to the post. With his hands bound behind him, another rope was placed around his chest, firmly securing him in place and assuring that he couldn't escape. _

"_What made you think you could have what is mine?!" Cerdic asked, his voice deceptively calm as he stared at Wulflaf through cold, unfeeling eyes. His eyes never leaving Wulflaf's, he bent down, picking up a long, tightly coiled whip and uncoiling it in his hands. "You will pay for your transgressions. As she did." And as though Cerdic's words were a signal, the crowd parted, and that was when he saw Maidha, chained to a stake driven in the ground nearby, her body broken and bleeding._

"_NO!" Wulflaf screamed, fighting the restraints as he struggled to reach her. The rope holding him to the post tore into his bare chest and wrists, burning and ripping through tender flesh as he fought to reach her. His eyes found his brother, standing near Maidha with a mocking smile on his face, and Wulflaf's cold, blazing eyes stared back at him, a dark promise of death in his gaze. _Brother, you will pay for your treachery. As will you all. You will pay dearly,_ Wulflaf thought, the need for vengeance channeling through him, even as he heard the crack of the whip in the air and saw Cerdic throw his entire body weight into the blow._

_And with the first lash of the whip, blood began to flow, dripping down his chest as the pain ripped through his body. But it was nothing compared to the pain he felt on the inside. Because as he stared at Maidha's still form, deep down, he knew he was too late. _

"Wulflaf?"

Wulflaf blinked, Caireach's concerned face replacing the image of Maidha's, and he realized suddenly that his hands were still on Caireach's shoulders, and she was staring at him with a worried gaze as she waited for him to answer her.

"You will stay behind me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Heaving a frustrated sigh at his unbending demeanor, Caireachyielded, nodding reluctantly as she waited for him to release his grip on her shoulders. He stared at her for a long moment before he abruptly stepped away, turning his back on her. _I will see to it that she comes to no harm during the battle, and then I will let her go. To do otherwise would be the height of folly._

* * *

Jorus sat slumped against a tree at the edge of camp, pulling up blades of grass with his fingers and tossing them away angrily. _This is all my fault. Had I only done my duty and walked the camp perimeter, then Atrius wouldn't have taken my place and he never would have tried to let that Woad girl go._ Atrius was the only commanding officer who'd ever seemed to pay attention to him, to notice him. _And now they're going to kill him. All because he took pity on those of us who are too weak to help ourselves_, he thought bitterly, berating himself for his weakness. 

An almost silent rustling in the leaves brought Jorus's head up, his eyes fearfully searching the pre-dawn darkness. Slowly, Jorus crawled towards the bushes, cursing himself for his fear even as he forced himself to keep crawling forward, his sword awkwardly gripped in his fist. Hidden in the shadows of the tree despite crawling forward, Jorus remained unseen. A turn of luck that likely saved his life, he realized, as he watched the brush part and a large man step out, followed by others, slowly grouping around the man, who Jorus was stunned to realize could only be a Saxon.

_What are the Saxons doing this far inland? They should have stayed camped on the other side of the island. They shouldn't be here—why would they be here?_ _But wait, those others aren't all Saxon. Those are the painted people, and those two there are some of Arthur's knights. _And that was when he realized. _They've come for the Sarmatian. They've combined their forces, and we're about to be slaughtered. _Trembling racked his frame, and he nervously began to bite his thumbnail, desperately trying to figure out what to do. He slowly backed away.

_Oh no_, he thought, feeling a cold, sinking feeling begin to take hold in his gut as the inevitable outcome of such an attack began to take form in his mind. _They're going to kill us all. And what about Atrius? He can't protect himself, and it's all my fault!_ Setting his jaw resolutely, Jorus darted out of the brush, determined to save Atrius, no matter the cost.

* * *

Atrius stirred, uncertain what had disturbed him, but when he opened his eyes, he found Dayn smiling back at him eerily in the faint light of dawn. 

"What devilry has you grinning so?" Atrius asked him warily, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer or not.

"They're coming," Dayn told him softly, his voice echoing with ominous foreboding.

"How do you know?"

"I just do. I can feel it."

And that was when the screaming began. Muffled cries and shouts of alarm ripped through the air, and the sudden clashing of steel rent the last vestiges of silence in the camp.

"I told you," Dayn said with a smirk, even as Atrius looked around him with growing concern. "Relax, Roman—my people will free us soon enough."

"It is not myself that I worry for, Sarmatian."

"_Them_? You're worried about _them_? Why? They all turned on you—not one of them came to your defense!" Dayn remarked, looking back at Atrius incredulously.

"They are still my people, Dayn, no matter their faults," Atrius replied quietly. Dayn settled back, quietly considering Atrius's words, unconcerned by the chaos quickly gripping the rest of the camp as Sarmatians, Saxons, and Woads seemed to materialize out of the early morning fog.

"I understand," he said softly. "But know this—you will always have a place among my people. If your own spurn you, you are welcome among us."

"If indeed the battle is won by your people," Atrius said softly.

"Why wouldn't it? We have surprise on our side."

"No, Sarmatian. _We_ do. A cavalry unit was to meet up with us—they may yet reach us before the battle is decided. Even with the aid of the Woads, I doubt Arthur brought a force large enough to defeat such numbers."

Dayn felt a sense of despair sweep over him, as he suddenly realized that if the cavalry reached them before daybreak, all was lost. _Orainne will be lost to me, and my brothers will die, all for nothing. They try to free me, but the cost will be too high. Fighting the Romans with insufficient numbers will be as vain as trying to hold back the tide._

"Be at peace, Sarmatian—all is not yet lost. God may yet show you favor," Atrius told him kindly, a pitying look on his face as he looked Dayn in the eye.

"My life stretches out like the shore behind me, and I can see no trace of your God ever looking favorably upon me. Even the blessing of the goddess Nemhain is little more than a curse. No, my friend, the gods will not aid me."

"You are young to be so cynical, Dayn. It doesn't become you. Try to have a little faith," Atrius told him kindly, and Dayn shook his head ruefully, a soft smile appearing on his face.

"You're not going to let me escape without trying your damnedest to convert me to your Roman ways, are you?"

Though his words were light, Dayn couldn't help but think once again on what fate had in store for him and his brothers.

_To whoever may be listening, may you have mercy upon us—do not let them die for me._

* * *

Wulflaf knew that it was time when cries of alarm began to pierce the silence, merging with the familiar sounds of pain, death, and steel that were quickly filling the air. As the noise pierced the pre-dawn silence, and soldiers began to emerge from their tents and bedrolls, Wulflaf felt the familiar stirring in his blood that heralded the coming of a battle. With the mass of Woads, Sarmatians, and Saxons behind him, he knew that the coming fight would be one worthy of fireside tales and epic songs. He halted everyone at the edge of the small crest of a hill to the west of the camp, motioning for everyone to hunker down, their weapons at the ready. 

"Why do we wait?" Caireach asked from her place at his shoulder. "Can you not hear? The attack has begun," she said, her eyes gazing at him in bewilderment. "I thought we were to attack as Arthur and Merlin's forces moved in."

"Change of plan. A fierce warrior you may be, woman, but you lack a sense of strategy. With Merlin and Arthur closing in on them from the sides, and their retreat cut off by the sea, in which direction will the Romans flee?" he asked her.

She frowned, but only for a moment, her eyes gleaming in the half-light as the answer came to her.

"Straight at us," she said with a smirk.

"Yes. Why tire ourselves pursuing an enemy, when we can wait patiently for our enemy to come to us?"

A sharp whistle sounded, and Wulflaf lifted his head, turning away from Caireach to wait, watching Gar's form suddenly emerge from the shadows.

"They're coming, just as you said. They are many, but surprise is ours," he said with a grin. "The ground will run red with blood this day," he told Wulflaf with fervor.

Mere moments passed, and Wulflaf could suddenly hear them, the Roman captains calling out hasty orders even as the soldiers scrambled to guard their retreat. Wulflaf raised his hand, and with a dark grin, he gave the signal to attack. Trusting Caireach to stay at his side, he jumped up, running, meeting the first wave with a roar. With his sword held out to his side, the blade parallel to the ground, he caught an oncoming Roman across the middle, feeling the blade bite deep into the man's abdomen.

"Retreat is for cowards," he said coldly, even as the Roman fell to the ground with a dazed expression. With an exultant roar, Wulflaf drove forward, swinging his sword around in a vicious arc, deflecting an opponent's sword and thrusting upward, stabbing deep into the man's unprotected chest. _You tempt fate when you go into battle with no armor_, he thought with morbid humor. Caught unawares by the attack, the Romans had had no time to don their armor, leaving them even more vulnerable than they might have normally been. _The gods have frowned on you this day. But they certainly smile on us,_ he thought as he leveled his sword at the Roman approaching him from the left. Even as he blocked the man's thrust and shifted to avoid the next swing, he was aware of movement to his right. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Wulflaf turned, only to see Caireach's sword swing up to block a Roman sword aimed at his head. An outraged scream of her own erupted from her throat, and Wulflaf spared a moment to admire her Saxon-like spirit. _Perhaps our peoples are not so different. Even if they _do_ let their women fight. _

But the moment was short, as another Roman ran forward to replace the one Caireach had struck down. The onslaught of Romans temporarily began to gain ground and sweat poured down his face, pooling at his throat as he fought on. _Perhaps we underestimated their numbers. There seem to be much more of them than we accounted for. They must have met up with a larger force at some point—how did the scouts miss this? Arthur's people must have met up with more resistance than they expected—it might have delayed their scouts. _But as the assault continued and more and more Romans seemed to emerge, he found he could no longer afford to allow his attention to wander.

"Wulflaf!"

Hearing his name in the bellowing cry of the loud Sarmatian that Wulflaf and his fellow Saxons had taken to calling _Hador_, the one named Bors, Wulflaf dispatched his opponent with a deft blow and turned.

"Arthur says, take your people, and find Dayn!" Bors yelled.

Knowing that the carefully divided forces they'd entered the battle with were no longer so separated, he threw off all plans of the blended Sarmatian-Saxon-Woad force and chose to go with what he knew would work. With a resolute nod, Wulflaf turned, his deep-throated roar echoing across the foggy dawn.

"Saxons, to me!" he called out in the harsh, guttural tongue of his people. "Caireach, Lancelot, follow," he called over his shoulder as he began to jog, weaving in and out of the uncountable frays taking place around them. He sensed more than saw his people forming up behind him, and he felt a surge of pride well up as he realized this would be the first time he'd truly led his people into a battle with outside forces. He had no fear of any of the people he'd brought turning on him, for those that he didn't trust outright knew well enough that the consequences for failing him would be severe.

With Caireach, Lancelot, and the others at his back, Wulflaf waded further into the heart of the Roman forces, swinging his sword indiscriminately at whoever made the mistake of getting in front of him.

"Dayn!" Lancelot yelled, his eyes searching the chaos for the younger Sarmatian, ears straining to hear any sign of him.

"Time is short, Wulf," Caireach cried out, struggling to catch her breath as she spoke. "The battle could easily go against us if we linger too long to find Dayn—we should split up. We'll find him faster."

"No," Wulfaf said, driving his sword decisively through a Roman's retreating form.

"She's right, Wulflaf," Lancelot called, kicking out with his boot to strike a Roman who was eagerly trying to smash through his defenses.

"You go if you wish. Caireach stays with me."

"Wulflaf," Caireach began, about to argue even as she fought back another Roman herself.

"No," he told her, cutting her off. "You will not leave my side."

* * *

As the screams and noises of battle echoed around them, Dayn's apprehension grew, and Atrius gazed at him with a mixture of worry and sympathy. Suddenly, a figure darted towards them, practically falling at Atrius's feet in his haste to reach them. 

"Sir!"

"Jorus?" Alarmed by the sight of the unarmed teenager, Atrius stared back at Jorus with growing dread.

"They're attacking all over camp, sir—they'll kill you," Jorus said frantically, already scrambling towards the chains that secured Atrius. "You have to run, so they won't find you!"

"No, _you_ should run," Dayn broke in, his gaze penetrating as he stared at the younger Roman. "Him they won't kill. But you…you are fair game."

"Will they kill him if he stays with us?" Atrius asked, and Jorus stilled, confusion on his face as he looked up at his commander.

"It's hard to say. I can't be certain that someone won't get overeager and kill him. There're too many factors, too many allies whose interests are their own."

"I thank you for your honesty, my friend," Atrius told him with a nod. "Jorus, you need to run."

"I can't leave you here, sir! Besides," Jorus said, biting his lip nervously, "I don't have anywhere to go. And if I run, I'll be a traitor to Rome, and I'll never be able to return home."

"Then loose the chains, and join us," Dayn told him.

"What should I do, sir?" Jorus asked, his face creased with worry as he gazed upon his commander, desperately wishing for the older man to tell him what to do.

"I cannot tell you what your heart must decide, Jorus. Make the decision and stand by it," Atrius told him with a nod. Jorus looked over his shoulder anxiously, nervously rubbing his hands together while he bit his lip. After what felt like a long minute, he leaned forward, once again reaching for the chains that held Atrius. A look of certainty blazed in his eyes, and Atrius nodded, proud of the young man for making his decision.

After long, tense moments, the chains fell away from Atrius, and the Roman man stood, moving away to search for a sword as he waited for Jorus to free Dayn.

"Dayn!" The call came from the distance, and Dayn easily recognized Lancelot's voice. He called back, eager to have his brothers by his side once more. Jorus worked furiously at the chains that held him, trying desperately to force the shackles open. Just as they fell from Dayn's wrists and Dayn looked down to push them away, Atrius turned back, his eyes widening in alarm as he tried to call out a warning. But he was too late.

Jorus's body jerked, and Dayn cast his gaze up in dismay, even as he looked past the boy to see a Roman standing behind him. Jorus coughed painfully, looking down at the tip of the sword that was now protruding from his chest. Atrius rushed the Roman soldier, knocking the man to the ground as he rained powerful blows down upon the unfortunate soldier who'd stabbed Jorus. Dayn left Atrius to it, cradling Jorus to his chest as he reached around the boy's shoulder to grasp the hilt of the sword buried in the young Roman's back. As Dayn pulled it free, Jorus gasped, his fingers weakly grasping at Dayn's tunic. With an overwhelming sense of sadness, Dayn slowly lowered Jorus to the ground, looking up when Atrius suddenly appeared at his side. Taking the boy's hand, Atrius stared down at him sadly, guilt crashing into him, for well he knew that the Roman had stabbed Jorus because the boy had been freeing a prisoner of Rome, a traitorous offense.

"I'm sorry, Jorus," he murmured softly, smoothing the hair back from Jorus's eyes, trying to soothe him, for there was no doubt in his mind that Jorus was dying.

"Don't be, sir," Jorus whispered. "I made my decision…," he choked out, "and…I stand…by it…I don't…regret it." His lips stained with blood, he smiled softly up at Atrius, gasping once more and falling silent, his eyes staring unseeing at the sky.

"Your people are cold and uncaring," Dayn said angrily. "They care not who they kill, be it an innocent or one of their own."

"Dayn!" Hearing Lancelot's voice once more, Dayn looked up to see Wulflaf, Caireach, Lancelot, and a handful of Saxons running toward them, Lancelot's sword poised to attack Atrius as soon as he was within reach.

"No, Lance, don't!" Dayn yelled, leaping in front of Atrius protectively. "He stays alive," he said gravely.

"Dayn, he's a Roman," Lancelot said incredulously.

"Not anymore—he's one of us," Dayn argued, his eyes flashing with hot anger as he dared Lancelot to argue with him.

"Enough!" Wulflaf broke in, unwilling to allow the argument to escalate. "It matters not. We haven't the time for this!" he said, turning to face the Roman soldiers who had followed them, as Lufian and Rathgar, who had joined them, stepped up to help hold them back.

"We have to find Orainne—she's here somewhere," Dayn told him, his attention immediately diverted and his anger forgotten, even as he reached for the sword Caireach was holding out for him.

"Do you know where she is held?" Wulflaf called back over his shoulder.

"No. But Atrius may," Dayn replied, turning to gaze questioningly at the Roman.

"If they have not moved her, I can lead you to her," Atrius said with a nod, taking up the sword that had killed Jorus. Reverently wiping the blood clean, he straightened, prepared to lead them. "The way will not be easy," he warned then, staring blankly for only a moment before he broke into a job, trusting that the others would keep up, despite the skirmishes that kept impeding their progress.

An eerie howl filled the air, and for a moment, the Sarmatians—Dayn and Lancelot—paused, knowing the sound for what it was.

"Arthur calls—we must regroup!" Lancelot called out.

"Not without Orainne!" Dayn shouted back, taking off once more.

"Wulflaf, this is folly! We're being overrun, and you risk us all just to retrieve the Sarmatian's foolish woman," one of the Saxons called out, grabbing Wulflaf by the arm and pulling him to an abrupt halt.

"You will do as I tell you. Do not question me again," Wulflaf told him coldly, his eyes alight with dark promise if the man failed to heed his words. Shoving the Saxon away, Wulflaf again began to hurry after Dayn and Atrius. But the man's words rang in his mind, and he couldn't help but agree with him, to a certain extent. _I'm putting my people in danger, and for what? A woman?_ He couldn't really say why it mattered, this girl he'd only met briefly, the wife of a young man Wulflaf had only just met. But yet, he couldn't force himself to turn back. _Well I know the pain of losing a woman—I would save another from that fate, if I could._ _No, there will be no turning back_.

* * *

Dayn fought the growing worry beginning to fill him as more and more time seemed to pass without any sign of Orainne. _Atrius, please hurry._ It seemed that for every step forward, the Romans pushed them two steps backward, and he could fill the ever-threatening rage swelling like an angry ocean within him as his frustration mounted. 

"Sarmatian, there!" Atrius yelled, pointing at the tent that seemed to loom up from the fog.

"Orainne!" Dayn yelled, fighting his way toward the tent frantically, his anxiety fueled by the sound of her voice calling back to him with a plea-filled sob. By this time, Atrius and Caireach had pulled ahead of Dayn, Lancelot, and the Saxons, but as Atrius saw how far he'd outdistanced them, he slowed, turning to come back to their aid. And as much as Dayn wanted to get to Orainne himself, he was still rational enough to admit that Atrius and Caireach were Orainne's best chance right now.

"Keep going!" Dayn screamed out, whipping his sword around furiously to meet a Roman's swing, Spinning, he shot his elbow out, catching the Roman on the ear with a numbing blow that brought the soldier to his knees, shaking his head dizzily. Not leaving him any time to recover, Dayn swung, throwing his weight behind the strike and cleaving the man's head cleanly from his shoulders.

With Dayn's cry echoing behind him, Atrius nodded, darting towards the tent where Orainne was waiting. Ducking inside with the Woad woman right on his heels, Atrius reached Orainne first, kneeling beside her as the fighting continued, the others desperately trying to push back the Romans surrounding them. Orainne held the chains out, trusting Atrius implicitly as he worked at the chains holding her. Sensing movement, Caireach turned, barely managing to parry the Roman sword that had been aimed at her midsection.

"Atrius, hurry!" Caireach yelled, trusting the Roman to free Orainne as she parried and swung her sword, cursing the tight quarters of the tent. _I should have held back at the entrance to the tent, should have left the Roman to free her himself while I stayed back with the others, with Wulflaf. _Her fighting style was highly dependent upon her speed and agility, and the loss of her ability to maneuver in the confines of the tent was quickly bringing her to the realization that facing the larger, male opponent inside was folly.

"Do you have her?" Dayn yelled, desperately trying to hold back the familiar red haze of madness that was threatening to overtake him. "Is she free?" He didn't trust himself not to accidentally harm her while in the throes of madness, and he was fighting with all he had to deny Nemhain's hold on him.

"Yes!" Atrius called, loosing the last chain from Orainne's small frame. With a happy cry, Orainne threw her arms around him, thanking him profusely, even as she leapt up to race outside.

Atrius grabbed hold of her, pulling her back and shoving her behind him as he swept up his sword and strode forward to help Caireach. Sweeping up behind the Roman, he wrapped his forearm around the man's neck, jerking his head back and pulling his sword across the man's throat before thrusting him aside and nodding at Caireach.

"She's defenseless, Roman," Caireach said, panting as she tried to catch her breath. "We cannot let harm come to her, or Dayn will never forgive us." Nodding again, Atrius led the way outside, his sword held ready, even as Caireach prepared to fall in behind them. As they emerged into the burgeoning sunlight, Wulflaf began to edge toward them, shoving aside his anger at Caireach stepping away from him in light of the more pressing need to protect her and Orainne.

As soon as Dayn saw Orainne step free from the tent, clinging tightly to the back of Atrius's tunic, Dayn felt his control beginning to slip.

"Keep her safe from me, Wulflaf!" he screamed, and with that, he let loose with a battle cry that caused a chill to go down Atrius's spine, even as he watched the Saxon nod and hurriedly back away towards them. Orainne buried her face in Atrius's back only for a moment before she knelt, reaching for a dagger that lay on the ground nearby, its owner lying dead, the dagger mere inches from his outstretched hand.

The eerie whistle of Arthur's standard once more filled the air, and Lancelot finished off the Roman he was fighting before he ran towards Wulflaf.

"We need to go, now! We're being overrun—this is madness!" Gar yelled out.

"We can't just leave Dayn here, and he's too far gone to reason with now," Lancelot said, glancing back over his shoulder at Dayn, who was eagerly cutting a swath of destruction through the Roman lines. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be enough to keep them from being overtaken, and Wulflaf knew it.

"Lancelot, we can't stay," Caireach called, ducking under a sword as a Roman moved in on her. "The goddess will look after her own—leave Dayn to her!" she called out, even as she backed away from the soldier to give herself more space to maneuver. His eyes narrowing on her and the Roman, Wulflaf strode forward resolutely, knocking the Roman's sword arm aside and driving his sword into the man's gut up to the hilt. Blood spilled over the double-fisted grip he had on the grip of the sword, blanketing his hands with a familiar scarlet heat.

"I can't leave him behind," Lancelot said, the agony of indecision written plainly on his face as he glanced back at the younger Sarmatian.

"We cannot tarry here," Atrius broke in, shifting impatiently even as he pushed Orainne further behind him and brought his sword up before him defensively, his eyes watchful and wary.

"Go, then—I'll wait for Dayn. We'll follow you."

Following the Roman's lead, Wulflaf grabbed Caireach by the arm, propelling her away from the advancing Romans that seemed to be appearing faster than they could fight them off. The chaos was growing with every passing moment, as more and more fighters fell to the ground and more seemed to rise up to take their place. So it was that Wulflaf felt more than saw Caireach stumble.

He caught her, tightening his grip on her arm to steady her. He pushed her ahead of him, almost losing his footing when he was suddenly forced to take her weight as she fell against him. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her against his chest, feeling his heart stop as she seemed to crumple, her body limp against him._ No! Freya, you will take no one else from me,_ he thought angrily, anger and anguish at war in his heart over this woman who had somehow become important to him despite his efforts to the contrary.

"Gar!"

The tall Saxon looked back over his shoulder, quickly turning back when he saw the still Woad in Wulflaf's arm. Resuming his place at Wulflaf's side, he immediately took up a defensive position in front of Wulflaf, even as Drefan, Lufian, Rathelm, and Halig moved in to guard them as well. Hefting Caireach into his arms more securely, Wulflaf fought back the worry he felt as she gazed at him with eyes glazed over with pain. _I cannot…_

"Drefan, take her," Wulflaf suddenly commanded, placing her in the younger man's arms almost before the younger Saxon could sheathe his sword.

"But…"

"Now! Do not question me! Go!" Wulflaf bellowed, his tone making it clear that he would not tolerate further argument. He could see the confusion in Drefan's eyes as he wondered why Wulflaf would so willingly thrust her into the arms of another. _I can protect her better this way. And I can protect myself from feeling too much._ If she were to die, it would be far easier, he knew, if he distanced himself now.

Stepping away, he quickly moved into the forward position, feeling better knowing that Drefan and Caireach were now behind him, shielded as much as they could be. A sudden flash and a crack of thunder suddenly shattered the sky above them, dark, stormy clouds suddenly rolling in from nowhere. Time seemed to slow and a heavy sense of foreboding swept the battlefield. Sensing something in the air, Wulflaf began to run faster, alternately dodging and slaying whoever crossed his path as he and the others pursued Atrius and Orainne. The distance between them and the two Sarmatians had quickly grown, but behind them, Wulflaf heard Dayn loose an otherworldly laugh, the sound of it echoing eerily with a voice not entirely Dayn's own. Wulflaf suppressed a chill as lightning split the sky and thunder burst forth, signaling the release of a torrent of rain. He slowed, bringing the others to an abrupt halt behind him, as he turned to stare back in the direction they'd come from.

"Wulflaf, why do you stop?" Gar asked, almost yelling over the sounds of the storm and the battle. "We'll all perish if we stay here!"

But something pulled at him, urging him to turn back and help Dayn.

"Gar, take my place. I'm going back. Tell Artair what is happening when you reach the standard. Retreat with the others." But before he could take a step in the direction of the two Sarmatians, he heard Lancelot yell out, his voice unable to hide his alarm.

"RUN!"

Wulflaf spun around, eyes growing wide with alarm as he saw Lancelot sprinting after them as fast as he could, Dayn right behind him, alternately running and turning to face the pursuing Romans who got too close. Lancelot quickly caught up with them, and together he and Wulflaf shifted to guard their rear without a word, trusting the others to lead them safely to Arthur.

"Will he slay us as readily as the Romans?" Wulflaf asked as they ran, both men splashing through puddles of water and blood and struggling not to lose their footing.

"It's never happened before, but he's not exactly lucid when he gets this way. That's why we're running instead of staying back. I've never wanted to put him to the test. But at this point, I really don't think he needs any help from us, so I'm certainly not going to turn back _now_."

"There!" Gar called out from ahead of them, and through the rain, Wulflaf could suddenly see Arthur's banner, the fighting around it heated and intense as Arthur and his knights tried vainly to push back the Romans while they attempted to give the rest of their forces time to answer the call of the standard.

"Wulflaf, we must pull back—we're being overrun!" Arthur yelled as he caught sight of the Saxon leader.

"It's too late!" Caderyn yelled, spinning around even as the Romans began to move in on them from all sides.

"Wulflaf, move!" Bors yelled, and when Wulflaf spotted Dayn bearing down on him and Lancelot with a feral gleam in his eye, he grabbed the other man by the arm, pulling both of them out of Dayn's way just as the younger Sarmatian broke through the Roman lines, joining the Saxons, Woads, and Sarmatians in the center of a circle of Romans that was slowly tightening around them like a noose. Dayn became frighteningly calm then, and his body stilled, uncanny in the aftermath of the current of madness that had swept him away upon its release. Slinging rain away from his eyes, Wulflaf brought his sword up, backing towards his allies as a cry erupted from Dayn's throat and lightning burst through the clouds, leaving Wulflaf to watch the younger man uneasily.

The gaps around Orainne, Caireach, and the other wounded that had managed to make it to the standard closed quickly as those still capable of fighting wordlessly moved in to surround them. Drefan gently set Caireach on the ground, stepping back and drawing his sword as he moved to join the others. Orainne stepped away from Atrius and knelt at Caireach's side, her hands immediately moving to the broken shaft of the arrow protruding from the injured woman's chest.

"Help the others," Orainne told Atrius haltingly, and with a resolute nod, he too stepped forward to join the small band of Saxons, Woads, and Sarmatians that were preparing to make their final stand. As he took his place with them, he realized that he now stood beside Arthur himself, the only other Roman standing against his own. For a moment, all was still as the storm raged around them, and it seemed to Atrius that the world was holding its breath, for even Dayn had remained strangely still after his last cry. Suddenly, the crowd of Romans stirred, and the familiar form of Atrius's commander stepped forward.

"So, Artorius, you have finally shown where your true loyalties lie," Gaius said caustically. "Obviously, Rome's trust in you was misplaced, as apparently was your father's. Imagine what he would say if he saw you now, preparing to fight against your own people."

"_These_ are my people now," Arthur said boldly, gesturing behind him at the men and women around him.

"How quickly you throw away your obligations to Rome. "

"Rome has failed her people, failed us all. Rome lost my loyalty the moment her justice failed to prevail."

"What nonsense is this that you speak of?"

"Rome's quest for power has corrupted her—the poor suffer, the innocent die, and for what? So Rome can have more?"

"You're an idealistic fool, Artorius. You give up the world for a bunch of peasants and savages—how pathetic. And _you_," he said, turning his shrewd gaze on Atrius suddenly. "_You_ don't even have the excuse that _he_ does—you're not some half-breed bastard born of a Briton whore. No, you're a traitor of a different sort, made all the worse by your willingness to stand with them even now."

Ignoring the look of surprise on Arthur's face as he suddenly noticed the Roman captain at his side, Atrius stared back at Gaius defiantly, his expression reflecting his complete contempt for his former commander.

"Long have I watched you prey upon those weaker than yourself," Atrius told him, "and having watched you foolishly lead our men into one blunder after another, I have no doubt that in this matter I have chosen wisely."

"Your choice is made then, and you will die with the rest of them for it," Gaius said coldly. But as he raised his arm to signal his men to attack, a great roar rose up from the surrounding forest, giving him pause.

Wulflaf began to laugh, his eyes alight with dark humor as he broke the silence that had once again gripped them all. He stepped out of the circle of allies, boldly staring the Roman in the face without fear.

"We shall see who dies this day, Roman," he said with an uncharacteristic smirk, as he turned towards the forest. _If I learned nothing else from my father, I learned well to always be one step ahead of my enemy._ "NOW, Offa!"

And as Saxons poured from the forest, Arthur met Wulflaf's eyes and knew that the tide of battle had turned once more. With Wulflaf, Atrius, and the rest of his people at his side, and Dayn's eyes once again taking on a familiar gleam, Arthur raised his sword, prepared to stand his ground and protect his own.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed, especially since you had to wait ages for this chapter. Hope you'll all take pity on me and review again! I think I've responded below to everyone who reviewed--if I forgot you, I'm SO sorry--please let me know if I did, because I hate to not reply to someone who took the time to review. Anyways, let me know what you guys think! 

**Marie Kenobi:** Alas, I left you on the edge of your seat for about 3 months…hope you were able to hang in there! What did you think of the chapter?

**Camreyn: **Wow, I'm really sorry, Cam—I don't think I ever messaged you back! Glad to hear you're pursuing your own writing, and yes, I'd be interested in reading for you. As you can tell, the amount of fanfic I've been able to churn out has been greatly reduced in the past year or so…updates are taking me forever now! I'm trying to wrap everything up, though, so I can focus on a new fic I've got in the works. Anyways, thanks for reviewing—let me know what you think!!

**king. mozza: **So as you've probably seen by now, Tristan and Niamh have lost "air time," so to speak, simply because I've got so many characters and several different plot lines going at the same time that it's almost impossible to cover everything. But I will do my best to get Tristan and Niamh back into the next chapter, if for nothing else than to wrap up their story into a great big happily-ever-after. Glad you like the story, though!

**Just a fan:** Never feel like you have to apologize for a long review—write as much as you want!! LOL. I hope your desire for bloodshed was satisfied by this chapter—it certainly took long enough to write the blasted thing! Haha! I was happy to hear that you like Atrius, because I certainly have gotten rather attached to the guy myself. Expect more of him in the next chapter, as well as some additional bloodshed. I wouldn't mind finding a guy as devoted to me as Dayn is to Orainne, too, but I could probably do without the scary temper—hah! Thanks so much for reviewing! Drop me a private message sometime, if you want—then, I could email you back more promptly. Will try to get Hummingbird in again when I can, but in the middle of the battle wasn't going to work out. LOL!


End file.
